MageWalker Alpha
by Lithos Maitreya
Summary: Book I of the Hierarch Series. After the fall of Malefor, Spyro and Cynder awoke to a world they didn't know. Imprisoned by Tosh in his prototype MageWalker armor, made specifically for them, will they be able to survive in Koprulu? Post WoL and DotD. AU as of HotS-no, not the MOBA.
1. Chapter 1: A World of Stars

**A/N: Hello to one and all! Now, I know that the idea of this story looks like the single weirdest thing since Norse mythology, but bear with me. This story is really just to set the board for the sequel, namely 'Hierarch', which is, in my opinion, the best idea I've ever come up with for a story. But more on that later. For now, enjoy this FanFiction. Also, to those of you who say crossovers make no logical sense, I'll just say that half my time is spent writing crossovers that **_**do**_**. So there.**

**What happens when you stick our two favorite dragons in Combat Walkers and throw them into the arena that is Koprulu?  
>This.<strong>

**Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize. I'm only putting this down once.**

**One Last Note: This story is not a priority for me. Don't expect speedy updates. I'm working largely on the Team Soul Trilogy right now, and most likely will be until Book II Arc 1 ends. This, like Messiah of Time, is a side project. Now, here you are.**

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><p><strong>MageWalker Alpha<strong>

_Protector of Koprulu_

Chapter I

**A World of Stars**

_"We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars."  
>-<em>Oscar Wilde

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><p>Spyro's eyes opened. For a moment he could not remember where he was and what was happening. Then he remembered. He and Cynder had just defeated Malefor in the Well of Souls together. The Destroyer, however, had circumnavigated the globe, and the planet was shattered. With Cynder beside him, he was just able to repair the planet before the fragments flew into the void. The last thing he remembered hearing before everything went black was Cynder's voice, saying the words he'd longed to hear for years, "I love you."<p>

Cynder was beside him now. his wing was draped over her, and their sides were touching. She was still unconscious, but he could feel her heartbeat, pressed close together as they were; on that score he rested easy.

Nothing else here was familiar, however. They were in a dimly lit, circular room of gleaming black metal, the walls of which seemed, strangely, to bear arms of steel all around them. The only light sources were four barred windows placed symmetrically around the room, through which moonlight and starlight shone.

Suddenly Cynder shook her head and opened her eyes. She blinked for a moment. Clearly, she, like him, had no idea where they were. He took advantage of her perplexity to lean down and steal a quick kiss between them. She was only too willing to comply, and when he separated their lipless, lizard-like mouths she stared up at him, eyes wide and seeming somehow dazzled, as though she was staring into a bright light.

He chuckled. "I love you too, Cynder," he said.

"Touching," said a deep, heavily accented voice, which seemed to emanate from all the room. The both were standing in a heartbeat, snarling. "But this is Koprulu. Those who survive need hearts of stone. You'll learn soon enough."

Suddenly, light – a strange, bluish, artificial light, like that which the crystal braziers in the tunnels under Warfang gave – burst from a circle in the center of the ceiling, illuminating the room and proving Spyro's earlier suspicion true. The room was lined with strange, mechanical arms, and steam was staring to rise from various points around them.

"Dragons, step on to the platforms of your color. This is for your own protection. This facility is about to be overrun by the Swarm," said an artificial-sounding female voice.

"Indeed," said the male voice. "We'll give you the weapons to survive. In return, we'll ask for your help. You don't stand a chance alone, and nor do we. Trust us."

Spyro suddenly had a strange feeling, as though he were being tested. But he said, "All right, fine. But break faith, and I will kill you." Then he nodded to Cynder, and they stepped on their respective platforms.

No sooner had he placed all four paws on the cold metal than depressions appeared under his paws, and metal straps locked them in place. He struggled with all his, even using elemental attacks, but the metal would not break, and he had no energy to use Convexity. He was helpless, and he saw, by looking around, that Cynder was in the same state. He had caused this.

But what _was_ this? The metal arms had begun to move; the walls were whirring and humming, and though it all, the male voice could be heard. "The first law in this Sector is this: trust no one. They all want the same thing: gain. At least in most cases. I'm different. You'll learn." Now the arms were hovering near them, carrying purple pieces of metal armor near Spyro, and black near Cynder. "Dragons… today, you are unleashed on this Sector." The arms came closer. "You've been freed from the prison of the earth… but as you'll soon learn… even freedom… has a price." At the last word, the arms attached a framework to each of them.

Suddenly, all the arms were moving, placing armor on them and sealing them in. soon they were both looking at the world through the tinted – glass visor of a mechanized walker. Spyro's was purple, while Cynder's was black. They had one another's faces shown on screens on the dashboard of their screens, and they looked at each other in shock and fear.

"You'll carry your prisons with you," said the voice softly. "That armor… those MageWalkers… will be your new cells. Those machines are more powerful than anything either of you have ever known. Now to use them."

And as the metal doors of the room opened, in rushed a flood of blades and teeth and blind fury.

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><p>Spyro had quickly found the most basic of triggers quite by accident. He had accidentally touched a button on the array attached to his paw (which controlled the hand of the Walker) and the hand had abruptly transformed into a spinning set of lead-spitting barrels. He did the same with the other hand and soon figured out how to fire it, after which he began to hail the monsters with metal pellets.<p>

After that, Cynder discovered a few things. First, the hand-control array could be locked in place, allowing their paws to explore the other features of the cockpit. Second, their hind legs were attached, like their hands, to a motion sensitive set of machinery that allowed them to command the bipedal vehicles to walk. And finally, she found their two more advanced attacks.

There was a laser turret mounted on each of their shoulders. It s rate of fire was absurdly slow, but it's power was unmatched in their arsenal. There was also a stock of grenades that could be launched, one by one, from a small cannon on their right shoulder. Their supplies were limited, however, so the two used them sparingly.

They also had some sort of energy barrier around them, at least at first. It soon fell, however. There were simply too many of the strange beasts. As soon as the horrible conclusion that there was no hope for survival reached Spyro's brain, however, salvation arrived.

More bipedal Walkers, slightly smaller than their own, rushed into the room suddenly, each carrying a mechanical metal block with a hole on one end. They were colored blue, apart from the leader, who was slightly larger, and had black armor. As one, they raised their weapons and fired more lead pellets at the monsters. With their aid, Spyro and Cynder managed to escape the building, stepping out onto a plain of bare rock. They were still surrounded outside, but suddenly the air around them began to pull them upward, and they soon found themselves inside of another metal room, this one with windows that looked out into thin air.

The black – armored being raised its orange visor and looked around at its fellows. Spyro blinked in surprise. The creature was one he'd never seen before. Its bodily structure was most likely similar to that of an ape, that he could tell based on how the head filled out the armored helm.

"Everyone all right?" It asked in a masculine, slightly accented voice – though the accent was very different from that of the voice that had stored the two dragons in their Walkers.

There was a chorus of 'Yeses' from many other voices, all of which were male, and the visors of all the other Walkers rose to reveal the faces of similar creatures.

"Good," said the black armored one, and then he turned to Spyro and Cynder. Looking from one to the other, he said to them, "Okay, you two, all I know is what Tosh told me. He's the one who put you in the armor. He said to tell you that the only way to get you back home is that you help us, and that you can only do that in those walkers."

"He might have given us armor we could get out of…" muttered Cynder's voice in Spyro's ear, courtesy of the radio link between the two suits. They were both surprised when the black-armored ape-like creature nodded.

"I don't like it either," he said. "But Tosh said there was a reason, and that he'd explain on the Hyperion. I don't know."

"You can hear us?" Cynder asked, surprised. The creature nodded. "You're talking on an open channel. There's a console – punch in the code 'Magi-632' to get onto your private channel. Our channel code is 'Raider-4'."

Spyro looked around for the console and soon saw the legend 'Raider-4' blinking at him from one console. Before he switched to talk just to Cynder, he asked the creature, "What's the Hyperion? Who are you?"

"The name's Raynor," said the black armored being. "Jim Raynor. And the Hyperion's my ship. We'll be there soon."

Suddenly Spyro realized that clouds had been flying past the windows the whole time. This structure was flying.

He quickly closed his channel to talk to Cynder. "What's going on?" he asked her. "Do you have any idea?"

"No," she said softly. "Nothing here makes sense. This huge metal structure is flying! How is that even possible?"

"I don't know, Cynder. This whole place is nothing like anything we've seen before. But we need to keep our guard up," he said, grimly. "Wherever we are, it's not as forgiving as home."

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><p><strong>AN: If there are any questions, don't hesitate to ask! Read and Review, please!**


	2. Chapter 2: Tosh

**A/N: I hate all the swearing, but… well, these are the StarCraft Terrans. They swear, and I have to deal. Anyway, here's the chapter. Enjoy.**

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><p><span>Chapter II<span>

**Tosh**

_"Spectres. Tell me, you ever see a Spectre? No? Because they don't exist."__  
><em>_-_Tosh

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><p>A short time later the hovering structure had begun to hover in what looked like the night sky. About then, a female voice emanated from various points in the walls. "We've just breached the ionosphere, Commander. The Hyperion should be in sight any minute."<p>

"Good," said Raynor. "All right, boys. We're almost in the clear. If the Zerg don't attack us for a little while longer, we're home free."

"Come on, sir, please," pleaded one of the men, half joking, half serious. "Tempting fate is one thing, but tempting the Zerg is even worse! Don't, or we're all deader 'n a nuked Baneling!"

There was mixed reactions to this. Some laughed, while others looked nervously out the window, reminded, suddenly of their fears. _Are the Zerg those things that attacked us? _he wondered. _What were they, anyway?_

He posed these questions to the Commander. "Yeah, they're the things you were fighting," he replied to Spyro's query. "They're monsters that can mutate into a whole lot o' different shapes, and almost all of 'em are dangerous. Tosh said you wouldn't know about 'em. Wouldn't say why. Mind if I ask?"

Spyro transferred over to his closed channel with Cynder to talk to her about it. "What do you think, Cynder? What should I tell him?"

"I don't think we should tell him we're Dragons until we're certain he won't kill us for that," she mused. "He does look a lot like an Ape, after all. Just tell him we're not from around here. That's _true_, at least."

Spyro did, and was greeted with a snort of disbelief from one of the troopers. "I really don't think it's likely that they're from _outside the sector_, Commander, and unless that's the case, they'd know 'bout the Zerg. Somethin's off about all this."

"I'll give you that, Nubston," Raynor said to the one who'd spoken. "But I really don't know what the Hell anyone would gain by being so damn obvious about fooling us. No one in their right mind would believe this story, and anyone in their right mind would know that. So I'm not going to believe it entirely, but I _am _going to let it pass. And you all better just do the same."

At this point Spyro spoke again. "I swear on the Ancestors, Commander Raynor, I'm telling the truth. We don't know where we are."

"'On the Ancestors'?" said the doubting soldier; Nubston. "You some kind o' _Protoss_ or somethin'? I ain't never heard a Terran swearin' 'on the Ancestors.'"

"Be _quiet_, soldier, if you're gonna talk about what you don't know the first thing about," said Raynor rather sharply. "First off, none of the Protoss swear like that either, and second, like it or not, dammit, the Daelaam, at least, are our allies now, so you just better get used to treating the Protoss like people."

Spyro's mind was burning. _Daelaam. Protoss._ The words reverberated in his head, as though he'd heard them before… as though he should know them…

He immediately switched from open to closed channels, and spoke with Cynder. "When he said the words Daelaam and Protoss–" just saying them gave Spyro a strange thrill "–Did you feel anything? As though… as though you knew them from somewhere?"

"No," said Cynder, but her voice was growing excited. "I got that feeling when they said the words Zerg and Swarm! Exactly that feeling! That's really strange."

"Yes… it is…" Spyro replied, pondering. "I wonder what it means."

He tuned back into the open channel to find an argument had broken out. It was likely started between the soldier, Nubston, and his Commander about the Protoss, but it had somehow evolved into Nubston sulking in a corner of the room, Raynor trying to quiet everyone down, and all the others randomly throwing insults at one another for no intelligent reason; save for a few who were on the sidelines, and egging on anyone who seemed to be gaining anything remotely resembling an upper hand.

"Is this how they normally act?" Spyro asked the Commander, who seemed to be taking a break before trying to calm his troops again.

"No," grunted Raynor. "Usually they only do this _after _they get drunk."

Suddenly, the female voice which had spoken earlier rang out again. "Hyperion in view. We will begin docking momentarily."

Most of the creatures ignored it, but Jim gestured for Spyro and Cynder to come to him. When they reached him, he led them to one of the windows, and said, "Look out. That's the Hyperion."

They did, one by one. Spyro looked out and saw, hovering in front of the stars, what looked like a massive, intricately crafted block. They were rapidly going towards it. The structure they were in was large, it was true, but in comparison with the thing they were hurtling towards, it was miniscule.

"Are we going to hit it?" Cynder asked the Commander with the first traces of panic evident in her voice.

"No," said Raynor, a grin creeping across his face. "We're headed for the hangar. We're going _in_."

They soon did, too. As the 'docking sequence,' as Spyro heard it called, began, the troopers began to quiet their argument. When the metal doors opened up and down, letting them out into the main hangar, the soldiers had completely quieted.

"Come on, you two," Raynor called to them from a doorway as they stood in the middle of the room, staring around, overwhelmed by all the sheer newness of everything in this world in the sky. "We're headed to the bridge to meet Tosh and the others."

The two Dragons in armor followed him through a corridor and into a small chamber. They remained in that chamber for a time with the door closed, and Spyro could feel that they were somehow rising. The chamber itself was lifting them. The doors opened soon after the motion stopped, and they – after going through one more steel corridor – found themselves in a very different room. There were unarmored versions of the ape-like creatures all around, sitting and working with strange illuminated screen. Dominating the room was what looked like a glowing, three-dimensional diagram of some kind, hovering over a table.

As they entered, one of the beings came over to them. It was wearing a strange, brown bodysuit with glowing red lines shimmering through it in a regular pattern, and its skin was darker than Raynor's. When it spoke they immediately recognized the voice. This was the being which had trapped them in the MageWalkers.

"Ah, good. I was beginning to worry. Thank you for rescuing them, Mister Raynor," said the creature.

"No problem, Tosh," said Raynor, but his eyes were slightly narrowed. "You'd just better have a damn good explanation as to why this feels so much like what happened with Tychus."

"This is very much like what happened with that Tychus," said the darker-skinned one, baring his teeth in a feral grin. "Only difference is this time they're on our side."

Raynor glared at him for a moment, before calling to the room at large, "I'm getting out of this suit. Be back in a couple minutes." He then left the room.

"Follow me, you two. We need to talk," ordered the brown-suited being; Tosh.

"Not until you give us some answers," said Cynder flatly. "Why are you putting us through all this? What do you want?"

"Your questions are delicate, the answers even more so," said Tosh, "I'll answer you when there's fewer prying eyes and ears around. Follow me."

They did, to another, empty room. Then he turned to them. "All right. I know you don't understand what anything around you is, so let me explain. My race is called the Terrans…"

And he began to explain to the Dragons the world and story of StarCraft.

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><p><strong>AN: There. Happy? New chapter. I am burnin' with ideas for future Hierarch books after the main trilogy, but they'll have to wait, now won't they? Now, PRESS THE BLUE BUTTON AND REVIEW!**

…**Please?**


	3. Chapter 3: Rendezvous with the Templar

**A/N: Hi again! I'm back! And so are our friends, my personal favorite race, the Protoss! See you at the bottom!**

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><p><span>Chapter III<span>

**Rendezvous with the Templar**

_"__You have persecuted us for generations...  
>...and now you beg us to aid you?<br>We will do what we must...  
>...but we do it for Aiur, not you...<em>_"__  
><em>_-_Zeratul, to his commanding Executor (you) in SC1

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><p>When Spyro and Cynder followed Tosh back into the bridge, their heads were spinning. This world… these Terrans… they were far older than the Dragon Realms. The history of the Dragons, the oldest race on their world, was only a little more than two thousand years old since their beginnings. These Terrans, it seemed, were at least three times that age! And the Protoss and Zerg the Spectre had spoken of were older still!<p>

Suddenly a thought came to the young hero. In this world they named each individual planet. Yet the Dragon Realms were only a portion of their world, and Spyro had never heard of a name for all their world. He wondered if there even was one. Raynor was back on the bridge once they arrived, though the Dragons barely recognized him now that he was out of his armor. When he noticed their entrance, he nodded at them in greeting.

"Nice to see you three finished," he said, his voice laced with slight venom, which faded had away by his next sentence. "Just in time, too; we've decided on the plan."

"And what is it?" Tosh asked, one eyebrow raised.

Raynor grinned ferally. "I was just coordinating with Artanis. He's marshalling the Protoss. We've decided that the time to strike is now – before Kerrigan finishes her campaign to recollect the Swarm." Tosh had told Spyro and Cynder about the Terran called Sarah Kerrigan; how she'd become the Queen of Blades. Recently, she'd been retrieved from Char. It was thought that she was human once again, but she – for whatever reason – had fled almost immediately once she could, and it was later reported that she was gathering the Swarm to her once again. Raynor determinedly believed that they were missing something, he didn't think the Xel'Naga Artifact had done so little, that Kerrigan was still, somehow, human, that she was gathering the Swarm for another purpose, but that didn't stop his planning. Not this time. He didn't attack her, but that was only because, this time around, she wasn't attacking anyone else; at least, not yet.

Before Raynor could finish, another Terran, this one wearing a navy-blue uniform, entered the room. He spotted Raynor, and saluted. "Matt Horner, reporting in, sir."

"Ah, Matt. Good. We just finished planning our next move," Raynor said. "Like I just said, I've been coordinating with Artanis. We're going to help the Protoss take back Aiur."

There was a pause, during which Matt Horner drew in a gasp between his teeth. "Are you sure, sir?"

"Absolutely."

There was silence again for a moment, during which Spyro pondered. _Aiur. _Tosh had told him it was the Protoss homeworld, taken by the Zerg. For some reason, that thought alone, had been enough to make his blood boil. And now, somehow, the thought of taking back the sacred planet was making him positively burn with excitement.

Then Horner spoke again. "All right, sir. I won't doubt you again."

Jim grinned. "Thanks, Matt."

The Captain of the Hyperion smiled back. "No problem."

Raynor turned to a man sitting at a computer console. "Set a course for the coordinates I gave you."

The man nodded, and tapped a few keys. "Done as requested, Commander," he said.

"All right," said Raynor, and nodded at Matt, who pressed a button on the Star Map and said loudly, "All hands prepare for warp jump on my mark!"

Everyone on the bridge grabbed something except Matt, Tosh and Raynor, and even they braced themselves. Spyro and Cynder copied them, not knowing what to expect. Matt was looking at his watch.

"Mark!"

And the starship Hyperion pitched forward into hyperspace.

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><p>Mere moments later, out it came again. Only now, it was surrounded. The instant the world appeared about the ship again, the void was filled by other, smaller Battlecruisers, as well as a fleet of other ships, made of a strange golden metal. The second they came through, Spyro's mind was assaulted by what felt like the thoughts of a million minds, not that he understood most of what he heard – or rather felt.<p>

_Today… at last… we will take back Aiur…_

_Can you see us now, Swarm? We are the agents of your doom!_

_I hope the Hierarch knows what he's doing. Aiur has been overrun for far too long…_

Then, suddenly, it was all drowned out by one presence; a very old, and very powerful mind, though it didn't seem malevolent. Spyro got the impression that it was watching him with interest, and not a little apprehension. It was blocking him out, not allowing him access to the strange mind-link he had been hooked into mere moments ago.

Before he could do anything else about it, however, something distracted him. A strange three-dimensional pattern of blue light appeared beside Jim, and a moment later it coalesced into the shape of a bipedal, reptilian being. It was wearing nothing other than lightly (if ornately) armored robes. From Tosh's description, Spyro recognized it as a Protoss Dark Templar, and for some reason, the sight of it made his heart race. He noticed that it had a set of severed tendrils protruding from the back of its skull. These, he knew, were its nerve cords, which the Dark Templar severed to be 'free' of the Khala, the Protoss mind link.

Suddenly Spyro thought of something. _Just a moment ago, when I heard all those thoughts… were those Protoss? Was that the Khala?_

He had no time to contemplate, however, for the Nerazim was already speaking. "_Friend Raynor,_" it said, or rather thought, for Protoss had no mouths. They spoke by projecting their thoughts outward to all present, or to only select people. "_Welcome. It is good to see that you have arrived safely._"

"Zeratul," Raynor said, and Spyro started in his armor (thankfully having disabled the function that made it move with him. This was Zeratul? Tosh had gone beyond metioning him; the Dark Prelate had been a significant subject. "Good to see you."

There was a pause for an instant, in which Spyro noticed that Zeratul's eyes were flickering about the bridge, almost warily, before settling on himself and Cynder. "_Urun has told me of… a strange occurrence. Someone aboard your ship has somehow connected with the Khala._"

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><p><strong>AN: I must say, I loved that quote from the top. It was what Zeratul said if you repeatedly clicked him in SC1. So, they've met Zeratul, and Spyro seems to be inadvertently delving into their secrets and powers. How's he doing it? Only Digolgrin (who I've been talking to) and I know, and neither of us are telling you! You'll just have to wait and see!**

**Now, please, review!**


	4. Chapter 4: Machinations and Motivations

**A/N: This is a long chapter. I have decided that it won't be alone. That's right, readers – after long and hard thinking, I've decided to lengthen my chapters from a minimum of one thousand words to a somewhat more tentative minimum of two thousand. This is the first chapter in that new trend. Twenty-three hundred words of MWA for your reading pleasure, coming right up!**

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><p><span>Chapter IV<span>

**Machinations and Motivations**

"_Men never do evil so completely or cheerfully as when they do it from religious conviction._"  
>-Blaise Pascal<p>

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><p>Spyro's eyes widened. It <em>was <em>the Khala he'd been delving into, then. He activated his arm array and raised his hand.

"That'd be me, I think," he told the Prelate after activating his armor's speakers.

Zeratul looked at him, and his glowing eyes narrowed. _Who are you, then, Terran? And how are you connecting to the Khala?_

Spyro shrugged, and the MageWalker followed suit. "I don't know," he answered flatly. As soon as we came out of warp, I felt it. I don't know how I'm in it."

Zeratul looked at him thoughtfully. _Strange… _he murmured. _I cannot feel your mind. What manner of metal is that armor made of?_

It was Tosh who replied. "An alloy of jorium and tritanium, as it happens."

Zeratul whipped about to face him, eyes blazing, his severed, braided nerve cords flying about. _Then it is designed to keep me from probing the mind of the one contained within! _he raged furiously. _What secrets are you keeping, Terran?_

Tosh merely bared his teeth in an almost crazed grin and did not reply. Raynor stepped between them. "Okay, knock it off, you two," he snapped firmly. "Zeratul, I don't know a thing either. All I know is that these two are people that for some reason Tosh trapped in armor. I know he had a reason – a good one – for doing that. I don't know what it was, but he and I've been through a lot. I'll trust him."

Zeratul's eyes had snapped onto him as he spoke. _Have you forgotten what happened the last time someone was trapped in the armor of your species? _he asked coldly. _Have you forgotten that the man you had once called friend nearly doomed the universe?_

Tosh had mentioned this. Aparrently, a man by the name of Tychus Findlay had been released from prison and trapped in armor, as they had, by Arcturus Mengsk, Emperor of the Terran Dominion. He'd been killed by Raynor when he tried to murder Kerrigan after an object left by a precursor race, the Xel'Naga Artifact had removed her infestation. This, quite apart from destroying the woman Raynor had fought armies to save, would have (according to a prophecy Zeratul had seen) caused the end of the universe. Kerrigan was apparently the key to saving the world from a strange threat.

Spyro shook himself of his thoughts, for Jim was replying. "I haven't forgotten, Zeratul," he said dangerously, his eyes glittering. "But I have reasons to trust Tosh. So I will. If you don't like it, we can leave you to take back Aiur on your own. I'd rather help you, but if you insult my allies again, we're through with this mission."

The eyes of the two heroes met and clashed. There was an agonizing pause, during which Spyro was acutely aware of the massive warships just outside the window. Then Zeratul nodded sharply.

_Very well, old friend. For you, _he said. Then, turning to Tosh, he said flatly, _I am watching you, Terran._ He turned back to Raynor. _The plan is this. We will dispatch a willing group of troops – largely Zealots, with Stalker support – to the site of the battle where I reached the Overmind's cortex some weeks ago. They will draw the Zerg forces. Then our main force, led by Artanis and Urun, will charge from the north. Selendis and Mohandar will lead an aerial assault from the west, and I will bring the Nerazim and any Spectres you will lend to my command from the south once the battle has begun. We wish for your troops to charge in conjunction with those of Artanis and Urun, from the east. Are you willing to assay this?_

Raynor thought for a moment, but when he spoke, it wasn't to Zeratul. "Adjutant, give me a tactical map of the layout of the area."

One such map (or so Spyro assumed; he couldn't read it) appeared on the screen. There were simulated Zerg battling a small Protoss force in a valley at the center, with the monsters' artillery batteries all around. "That has to be our priority," he said slowly. "Those Spore Cannon will destroy Selendis and Mohandar's forces. And you can't infiltrate them cloaked; they're detectors."

Zeratul walked over and stood beside him, watching the map as well. _Of course, _he said, giving the impression that he was berating himself for not seeing such a flaw in their tactics. _But a frontal attack cannot succeed without heavy losses. What do you suggest?_

"Perhaps three specialists could succeed where an army of them would fail," Tosh said, his eyes glittering with a strange, almost-malicious light.

Zeratul turned to him. _Whom do you suggest, Spectre?_

"Who else?" Tosh's teeth were bared in a frighteningly feral grin that made Spyro shudder slightly. "Your reputation precedes you as a master of espionage, Prelate. And I am not inexperienced in that area myself."

_I see. And who else would you recommend? _the Protoss asked.

Tosh answered by turning towards Cynder, who was startled. "Cynder, you have a Nyx-class cloaking module on your armor. It'll allow your stealth the rival mine or Zeratul's. Will you join us on this mission?"

As one both Dragons turned to the private channel. "I don't like this, Cynder. It sounds dangerous."

"Yes…" she murmured, "But the Nyx-Class module is the best, Tosh said. I can manage. I'll be fine."

"But…"

"Spyro," she said, "It's Aiur."

How had she known exactly what button to push? How could Spyro argue with that? It was Aiur. The Protoss Homeworld.

"Fine…" he muttered, and felt a terrible weight of guilt on his mind as he said it. Why did he feel as though he was betraying her?

Cynder's face grinned at him on the console before him as they both switched back to the open channel.

"All right," said Cynder. "I'll come."

Spyro's heart ached in his chest, but the decision was made now. Still he felt terribly conflicted. On the one hand, this was Cynder, gambling her life for this world he'd never seen before. On the other, that world was Aiur.

Why did that seem to make all the difference? What was happening to him? Did Aiur really mean more to him than Cynder?

He cut himself off from the channel and shut down the console that allowed him to see Cynder's face. Silence filled the cockpit of his little machine. He looked about himself, thinking. Offhand, perhaps to distract himself from his other thoughts, he wondered how long he would have to live in this pod of metal.

Then a new thought occurred to him. How was he going to eat? Come to that, why was he not hungry yet?

Then he noticed that the mechanical apparatus connected to his chest were attached to Life Gems in the back of the cockpit. Of course; Tosh _would _use the Dragon's ultimate substitute for food. A tiny amount provided enough energy and nutrition for a day; assuming you weren't attacked and wounded. He wondered for a moment how Tosh had gotten his hands on one, then dismissed the thought. _They're probably as common here as they were back home, _he told himself.

Still all his attempts to divert himself came to nothing. His thoughts quickly returned to the reason he'd withdrawn.

_Did Aiur mean more than Cynder?_

He examined his feelings. _Cynder… _he loved her, there could be no question of that. He would die for her; indeed, he almost had, in convexity, all those months – or rather years – ago. But would he not die for anyone who needed his protection? He would, so how did that make Cynder special.

He smiled softly in the dimly-lit cockpit. He would die for any life that needed it, but for her, he'd go further.

He _lived _for her.

But Aiur… What was this strange feeling, this unbendable longing for that place? It was as though he felt more Protoss every minute; more like the race that lived and died for their lost home.

Was he suddenly the same? Did he, too, live only for that world?

Suddenly he imagined himself living on Aiur, in a house of golden metal, in the luxury of the Templar caste. He had fought long and hard in the war for Koprulu and had been instrumental in the Homeworld's liberation. But in the war, while they fought together, Cynder had died. Swallowed and destroyed by the Swarm, never to rise again.

And then he had another vision. Himself and Cynder, no longer in armor, but in their own biological Dragon-bodies, standing side by side on the Hyperion's bridge, watching a planet with oceans like sapphires and forests like emeralds – a world he somehow knew was Aiur – being consumed by fire and explosions until it eventually shattered, sending debris flying in every direction through the void. He felt himself crying in this vision, but there was Cynder, her head nuzzling his own, her tail wrapped around his, and her crimson wing draped over his back.

All of this had come to his mind in a flash, yet in that instant, he knew. The second image was best.

"Cynder…" he whispered, and wished that none of this had happened. He wished he was back home, out of this armor, with her, frolicking through the grasses of Avalar once again as they had once. How long ago had that been? Mere days had passed, yet it felt at once like a lifetime and only minutes ago.

He shook himself from his thoughts. Crying for what he did not have was no use. Cynder was here, alive, and so was he. For now, that was enough. It had to be. He couldn't decide what time fate gave to him. All he could decide was what to do with the time he did have.

He turned back to the open channel and turned on the visual of Cynder. At once, Zeratul's voice filled his mind, not bothering to pass through his ears. _…Urun cannot completely suppress his link to the Khala, and my nerve cords are not so destroyed that I cannot feel emotions through it; only thoughts are hidden from me. His emotions are in turmoil, and were just so strong that I believe every Khalai in the fleet must have felt them._

"Well he's back in the open channel. You can ask…" began Raynor, but Cynder interrupted.

"Are you all right, Spyro?" She asked, and her digital face looked at him, worried. "Zeratul started going on about how your emotions were going crazy."

"I'm fine, Cynder," he said, and was about to say that he really didn't want her to go down to Aiur when he stopped himself. It was true that he didn't want Cynder to go, but it was her decision. So all he said was, "I want to talk to you later."

"All right," she said, and her image nodded, still looking worried. "Are you sure…"

"Positive," said Spyro firmly, smiling at her. She smiled back in relief.

Suddenly Zeratul's voice spoke in his mind. _I beg to differ. I speak now only to you. There were strong emotions of the fear of loss in your mind mere moments ago, and they are still quite present. What is it? Think your answer directly to me; the jorium will allow that through._

Spyro felt somewhat flattered that this great warrior of the Firstborn seemed so worried about him, so he answered honestly. _I'm afraid, yes. Afraid to lose Cynder. I promise I will tell you about our past one day – when I can – if you just keep her safe. Please._

Zeratul seemed momentarily surprised. _Your mind is strong, unlike that of most Terrans. I am quite interested to hear your past. This Cynder means so much to you?_

_More, _thought Spyro simply.

_Then I swear that she will live if I do, _Zeratul promised. _More than that, I cannot promise. I will protect her with my life, as I would any worthy comrade._

Spyro was suddenly reminded of his own thoughts of how he would die for anyone who needed and deserved it. He suddenly felt a kinship with Zeratul, beyond the strange link he felt with all the Protoss.

_Thank you, _he mind-said simply, trying to project as much gratitude as possible through to Zeratul. And he thought he somehow felt Zeratul receive it.

All of this conversation had taken place with other discussion going on. Indeed, Zeratul seemed to have been talking normally with the two Terrans the whole time. Spyro was impressed – the Protoss hero seemed so skilled at his psionics that he could hold two separate conversations at once without showing any sign of strain. Spyro wondered where his limit was.

"All right, then," said Jim. "So here's the plan." Spyro immediately focused on him as he continued. "We'll send in a Special Ops Dropship with a detail of cloaked Wraiths and Banshees. The ship'll contain the three of you – Tosh, Zeratul, and Cynder. It'll drop you off to the south. Your Blinking abilities will allow you to hop along the cliffs and take the enemies out from above, while Cynder and Tosh take out anything not under detection. You'll need a ranged weapon, though –"

Zeratul nodded. _I am trained in the use of the Judicator Caste's wrist-pistols. I will borrow one from one of our tacticians._

"Good," said Raynor. "Are they powerful?"

_Powerful enough for this, _said the Dark Templar.

"All right, then," said Jim. "You know what to do. Tell Artanis, and we'll meet again in the Aiur system, in the magnetic asteroid field so they don't detect us."

_Very well, _said Zeratul, and seemed suddenly unable to hold the next thing he said back. _I thank you. At last, we will reclaim Aiur. At last, we will have revenge! _Then, in another prismic flash, he was gone.

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><p><strong>AN: There you go. Longer, right? And there's a battle coming up. It'll probably start in the next couple chapters. Everything's downhill from there. And remember, reviews are imagination food!**


	5. Chapter 5: The Calm Before the Swarm

**A/N: Here you are again! It's another 2k word chapter. Enjoy!**

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><p><span>Chapter V<span>

**The Calm Before the Swarm**

"_All the world is quiet, but it is the quiet before the storm._"  
>~Jack London, <em>Iron Heel<em>

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><p>As soon as the last vestiges of Zeratul's warp were gone, Raynor turned to Matt. "All right, then. You heard. Give the order."<p>

The Hyperion's captain nodded and spoke aloud towards a small microphone in the wall. "All hands, prepare for warp jump on my mark." Then, turning to the officers working on the consoles he asked, "You have the coordinates?"

When he received an affirmation, he looked at his watch. For a few seconds, the ticking of the second hand of his watch seemed to fill the whole room as all the Terrans – and even the Dragons – waited with baited breath. Then the watch reached an exact minute and he spoke, loudly and firmly. "Mark!"

Spyro was glad he'd remembered to grab on to the handles on the side of the bridge that were there for that purpose as the Capital Ship lurched forward into warp again. Space seemed to blur and reality seemed to fade into the background, replaced by the unreal blurs and half-formed shapes that flew past the windows of the ship.

And then normality returned as the ship returned to the customary three dimensions. Outside the ship he could see what looked like giant, monolithic stones floating about in perpetual motion all around the ship. And then he saw that there were other shapes in this strange, alien stone mine, their forms blurred by the dense clouds. Then, as one of them came close enough to identify, he could see that it was one of the Protoss vessels from earlier. Their allies had arrived with them.

"Incoming transmission!" the Adjutant's synthetic voice said suddenly, startling Spyro with its suddenness in the previously silent bridge. The same words appeared on one of the screens.

"Patch it through," replied Raynor. His voice had changed – it was as though, now that battle loomed directly before him, he had shifted into a colder, tenser, and above all more strategic version of the man Spyro had met earlier.

Zeratul's face appeared on the screen as Raynor came towards it. _Hierarch Artanis has agreed to your plan, _he said. _When you are ready, I will come aboard and the three of us will warp to the planet's surface. When we have arrived, the fleet will begin a slow descent towards Aiur, only to arrive once a landing site has been cleared for a larger, base-building force._

"Sounds good," said Raynor. He turned to Tosh, and then to Cynder, looking between the two of them. "Are you two ready for this?"

Tosh merely bared his teeth in a feral grin in answer, while Cynder replied with a controlled "Yes."

Spyro looked at her face on the console. She looked perfectly calm and composed – after all, what could she face here that was worse than Malefor? That, Spyro could understand, and yet…

…Yet he still felt that he and she should be much more afraid. _Much_ more afraid.

Jim turned back to Zeratul. "All right, old buddy. Anytime you're ready."

Zeratul nodded, and disappeared from the screen. A moment later, he warped back onto the Hyperion's bridge. He nodded at Raynor and then turned to Tosh and Cynder. _Come over here to me, you two,_ he said.

They both did so.

He held out a hand between the three of them. _Take my hand, _he said.

They complied; first Tosh's thinly gloved hand took his scaled one and then Cynder's larger mechanical fingers closed around both their hands.

_We will travel by Warp Prism,_ the Protoss said. _There will be a detail of cloaked Banshees and Wraiths with us. See to this, friend Raynor._

Jim nodded at Matt, who began the complex logistics process of coordinating the Wraiths and Banshees with the Protoss pilots in the background.

_Good, _said Zeratul. _I thank you. _He closed his eyes for a moment, and then opened them again, and for a fleeting instant, they flickered over to the windshield that hid Spyro's face from view. In that moment, as though the Templar could see through the tinted glass, their eyes met. No words passed between their minds, but in that glance, Spyro could see the Nerazim's promise renewed.

A second, and nothing more; in a moment, the three were gone, replaced by the prisms and illumination of warp. And then even that was gone.

Spyro quickly looked down at Cynder's face on his screen. She was still there, as he'd hoped, but her face suddenly took his breath away.

Her black scales were lit on all sides by an ethereal blue illumination which seemed to pulse and shift and reflect oddly on the metal of the vehicle's shell behind her, as well as on her scales. Her eyes were wide, the lovely emerald-green mixing with the blue's reflection to make a plethora of new and beautiful colors. Her mouth was ever so slightly open as she looked all around out of her cockpit at whatever otherworldly light show was going on about her; her head turning slightly from side to side to focus on different things that he could not see. Not that he needed to – He would have stared at her even if he was immersed in whatever she was watching. All in all, he had to say that she'd never before looked quite as beautiful as she did just then.

But then she'd left the warp, and the screen was back to her normal cockpit, though she still was looking around in wonder – likely at the interior of the Protoss vessel she'd entered, and there was just the slightest hint of a blue light reflecting from outside her little pod that was similar to the light he'd just seen through her.

Now he saw that she was operating a keypad on her dashboard and looking down at him between times. He decided that she was probably tuning in to the private channel, so he did so too.

He was right. "Spyro," she said. "I'm okay, as you can see."

He nodded and smiled down at her face. "Yeah. Keep it that way, all right, Cynder? I don't want to lose you."

She grinned at him. "You worry too much!" she told him happily. "I'll be fine, you'll see."

Their eyes met for a moment and then he said simply, "I love you, Cynder," before turning into the open channel.

Raynor was giving orders coordinated with another Protoss who was on the screen. In a momentary break, he turned to Spyro and said, "All right… dammit, I just realized I never got your name."

"Spyro," the Dragon told him. "I'm Spyro and my friend's name is Cynder."

"Just Spyro and Cynder?" asked Jim.

"Yes," said Spyro.

"All right, Spyro," said the commander. "You're dismissed from the bridge. Stetmann!" The last word was to a younger-looking Terran who jumped slightly as his name was called and asked, "Yes, sir?"

"Show Spyro here to the hangar and get him settled down in a conrer, out of the way. Sorry, but that's the best we can offer you right now," the man said to the MageWalker-clad Dragon. "We don't have any beds that'll fit your armor, and you wouldn't even feel the padding, regardless."

"I'm sure it'll be fine," Spyro replied. From what he'd gleaned from the conversation, it seemed that he was being offered a place to sleep. That was something he couldn't turn down now, for all in an instant, exhaustion rushed over him. Really, he hadn't been awake to long, but unconsciousness after saving the world couldn't really be counted as proper sleep.

So it was all he could do, after Raynor nodded a dismissal and turned back to the Protoss leader, to follow Stetmann down corridor after corridor until they reached a room full of various other kinds of armor and small starships. The man led him to a small, sheltered corner of the room.

"Could you just lie down here?" the young man asked.

Spyro nodded. Then, remembering that the man couldn't see him, he said, "Yes, thanks." The padding on his back would be plenty to give him comfort.

He thanked Stetmann and lay down. He then proceeded to disconnect his arms and legs from the machine. Suddenly, and though his reclined position and the disabling of his arm and leg arrays had triggered it, the padding behind him expanded to a full-fledged mattress. It was colored gold and easily the most comfortable thing he'd ever laid on in his life – being used as he was to beds of leaves or, back when he stayed in the Guardian Temple, a mattress stuffed with heather. But that had had too much give – this was just firm enough.

He looked forward to see Cynder's face watching him. He smiled at her and opened the private conversation channel. "I love you too," she said immediately.

He smiled sleepily up at her face, his eyelids drooping. "Are you allowed to sleep?" he yawned.

"Yes," she said. "I didn't know we could get that bed. Is it comfortable?"

"It's the best," he told her fighting to keep awake while they spoke. "I think you activate it by lying down and shutting down your arms and legs." He watched her face as she did just that, and then saw that, yes, a bed had expanded into existence behind her, too. Hers was a bright crimson that matched her underbelly, as his own did his. As she lay down upon it, she let out a euphoric moan that sent shivers down his spine.

"You were right when you said it was the best, Spyro," she chirped, smiling at him happily.

He smiled back, but it was tinged with sadness. "I wish we weren't stuck in this armor," he said quietly.

Her smile remained, though her eyes grew sad. "I love you," she said, and he knew it was because she had no real comfort to give him.

That meant that she was as despairing as he. Spyro felt a compulsion to comfort her, so he did. "It won't be forever," he promised her. "Not if I can help it."

Her smile widened slightly and her eyes closed for a moment as she slowly shook her head. "Spyro, it may be getting old, but I love you," she sighed, her voice barely above a whisper.

"It never gets old to hear it from you, Cyn," he crooned. "And I love you too."

She giggled at her new nickname, and then sighed and shook her head as though to clear it. "Good night, Spyro."

"Good night, Cyn," he replied. "Wake me up when you get ready to go."

"All right," she sighed sleepily. She turned so that she was on her side and looked up at him blearily for a moment. "Good night," she whispered, and her eyes closed. After a moment the lights in her cockpit shut down, leaving her in a peaceful darkness, but he could still see her, dimly illuminated by the bluish light from without and the glow of the screen that showed her his face. Her breathing was steady and slow, her face calm and relaxed in sleep. She was already out cold.

He smiled to himself slightly, enthralled for a moment by her beauty, and then whispered, "Good night," whether to himself or to her, he couldn't tell, and, shifting to his side as well, closed his eyes.

After a moment, the light shut down past his closed lids.

Just a second later, he, too, was fast asleep.

The Hyperion slowly arced through space towards the planet of Aiur. Towards the homeworld of the Protoss.

In just a couple hours, Cynder would be awakened by Tosh. She would rise and brace herself and learn how to use her Nyx-Class cloak. Then, in just half an hour after that, the Warp Prism holding her, would come near enough to the planet for them to exit.

After that, she would step out of the ship, prepare her guns, cloak, and march straight into the fray.

In just a few hours, the battle for Aiur would begin. But, for the moment, the Dragons forgot all of that, forgot that they were bound in armor that they could not escape. Just for a couple hours, in sleep, they were free to dream.

They dreamt of each other.

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><p><strong>AN: There you have it! Next chapter will either start with their waking up or with the battle. Either way, the battle will begin there. Stay tuned! Later, all! And please, review!**


	6. Chapter 6: Aiur

**A/N: So… how's it been? To be honest, I can't remember how long it's been since my last update. Hope it's not too long. I think it has been. Ugh. Anyway, enjoy!**

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><p><span>Chapter VI<span>

**Aiur**

"_I've had a sneaking feeling throughout the game that it's there to be won._"  
>~Ron Atkinson<p>

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><p>The creep, slick and slightly luminous, lay over Aiur like a rug. The once-green planet was transformed, mutilated, until all that was left was a barren shell where native life grew only in the few places that had not been touched by the Zerg.<p>

But on the creep carpet, the marauding Zerg were without number. Leaderless as the Swarm now was, the individual hives now answered only to their individual Queens, Hives, and other command units. Kerrigan didn't seem to have claimed Aiur's hordes just yet. Still, they were dangerous.

A small pack of Zerglings – perhaps ten – galloped past a small crevice in a stone cliff. A few moments after they passed, a strange, blurred patch of air left the alcove and followed the wall before darting into another, similar cranny. It was instantly followed by two other such blurs. They looked almost like heat-haze, but with no apparent cause.

Or perhaps it was personal cloaking.

Cynder carefully stopped, trying to move as quietly as she could and not skid on her heavy metal feet as she came to a halt. She might have a Nyx-Class cloak, but she had not yet been trained in other aspects of stealth, and her armor felt unhelpful and cumbersome as she commanded its metallic movements from within.

Tosh and Zeratul had both noticed this flaw in their plan early on, but there was no longer any way to send her back to the fleet. They just told her to be as quiet as she could and be ready to fight at the drop of a hat – though not quite in those exact words. The true conversation had involved Zeratul getting very angry with Tosh, Tosh seeming to gain some king of cold, emotionless quality that might have been a hidden anger, and all in all threw them into a skirmish that could have been averted had the two Kopruluans just been a bit more silent. This, of course, just made the two more furious with one another. Not to mention that Zeratul still didn't like Tosh for sticking his captives in armor which prevented him from reading their minds.

Cynder quietly rolled her eyes. _Males… _she thought with a hint of disdain. The two warriors before her were mature enough not to argue in enemy territory, but the aura of mutual dislike was clearly palpable. Still, they'd deal with it – or so the Dragoness hoped.

She spoke quietly then, more to interrupt the cold silence than to get her question answered, though that was on her mind as well. "So, the plan was to clear a landing site. Do you have somewhere in mind, Zeratul?"

_Yes, _his voice whispered in her mind in answer. _My old base, the one I used for the battle in which I sought out the Overmind's cortex while I searched for the prophecy, should still be relatively clear of Zerg, and a couple of the base structures may even be intact. I intend to set our forward base there._

"That seems wise," said Tosh flatly. One couldn't say he was unwilling to admit his rivals' good points, at least. "Where is this base?"

_A couple hours' steady movement to the northeast, _Zeratul replied coldly. _We can reach it by crossing this valley, _here he pointed out at the great bowl formed by a ring of cliff-faced mountains like the one in which they hid, _and passing into that gorge you see there on the other side. We will follow this gorge until, at the end, the ground drops away. I will blink us across that gap, and we will be at the plateau that is the site of my old camp._

"I see," said Cynder. "Okay, lead on."

Zeratul nodded, and, without another word, left the gorge and was off across the valley at a brisk walk. They had all agreed not to run – it was a long way for that, and exhausted clumsiness was not something they could afford. The Zerg were everywhere, and if they could be seen or heard, then they would have been set upon and destroyed before they could even blink.

Cynder was transfixed by the beasts that skittered, slithered, and stomped over Aiur's landscape. To her, they seemed to have a sort of macabre majesty to them, an unorthodox beauty that could not be approached by either of the other races she'd encountered. Yet something about them repulsed her, too. It wasn't that they were Zerg. Somehow, that was their greatest redeeming point in her eyes – somehow, 'Zerg' seemed to her like a good thing. It was that they were here, on Aiur. All other worlds they might conquer and be welcome, in her eyes, so long as they killed none of the innocents there – somehow she felt she'd love to see the Zerg Swarm at its full, spread all across a galaxy of stars as honorable, fair rulers – but not Aiur. That was Protoss ground.

Their elder brothers' homeland.

She shook off her musings. They'd reached the gorge that would lead them to Zeratul's old camp. "In?" she asked quietly, so as not to be heard by the group of Hydralisks that stood sentinel nearby.

_In, _replied Zeratul, and proceeded to pass into the gorge.

"Good luck, Cynder," Spyro's voice whispered softly into her ear as Tosh followed the Templar. The Spectre had given them a little more information on how to converse with each other and others through their MageWalkers after they'd woken, and they could now speak to each other while simultaneously listening to the conversations of others outside.

The Dragoness didn't reply verbally, only looked down on his slightly worried face on her console and smiled lovingly at him. Then she followed her two companions into the canyon.

For the first half an hour they prowled along almost silently, only speaking occasionally to one another. Thus for the most part Cynder kept herself muted to the outside (though she could still hear her allies; another of Tosh's handy tricks) and chatted with Spyro about this and that – largely comparing notes about their adventures back home and the new adventures in which they now found themselves in Koprulu. Cynder described Aiur's landscape to him, and he was a very interested audience, but seemed repulsed and infuriated when she told him it was now largely covered in creep – far more so than she. It seemed again to spawn from the mysterious, inexplicable links they'd formed with the people of Koprulu. This, too, was a topic they discussed at length.

"It's weird," Spyro said flatly. "I can't help it any more than I can help breathing. I _revere _these Protoss, and I don't even know why. I know next to nothing about them, and yet I feel a lot like I did in the Well of Souls when the Ancestors attacked Malefor. It's like they're gods or something, which is ridiculous."

"Now there's finally something different," said Cynder, relieved. "I don't revere the Zerg – it's more that I pity them, although why I should I can't say. Although I do feel like I should respect them, somehow, and that, once, they were worthy of reverence."

Spyro shook his head. "Curse Tosh and his secrecy. How're we supposed to do anything if we can't even sort out our own heads?"

"I don't know, Spyro," she murmured, looking out of her cockpit at the Spectre in front of her. "I just don't know."

"I swear, if he…" Spyro began, and then he stopped suddenly, as though he couldn't finish the sentence.

"What, Spyro?" she asked him encouragingly. "What is it?"

"I just…" he muttered, looking away, "I was going to say that if he gets you killed, I'm going to make him follow, and it won't be quick or painless, either. But I shouldn't be stupid. You'll be fine – you're a better fighter than I am."

"I wouldn't say that," she chuckled, though her heart felt light in her chest at his worry for her – his caring for her. "But don't get yourself all worked up. I'll be fine; and anyway, if I get in trouble, I know you're already coming to swoop in and pull me out like you always do."

"Count on it," he said with a grin, turning back to her. His eyes were bright with what might have been unshed tears. He might have said more, but at that moment, Zeratul spoke as loudly as he dared on Cynder's end.

_Halt! _he commanded. _There is an Overseer!_

She immediately stopped her simulated walking, which in turn caused the MageWalker to cease its movement. "Sorry Spyro," she said to him. "I've got to go. I'm going to mute you, okay?"

"All right," he said, smiling wryly at her, as though laughing at some irony she couldn't see. "Bye, Cynder. Love you."

"Love you too," she said, laughing slightly, and muted his channel. Then she opened her channels to Zeratul and Tosh so they could hear her. Then, before speaking, she got into a less rigid position, taking something more resembling a combat stance. Then she asked her two companions in a whisper, "What do we do now?"

Zeratul thought for a moment, and then spoke. _I will look around to see if there is any other control Zerg in the vicinity,_ he said then. _If not, I shall entrap the beast in a Void Prison and Tosh shall eliminate it as quickly and silently as possible – thus none shall hear us and it will be unable to inform them._

"The Cerebrate will notice," said Tosh quietly. "It will see one of its many eyes go dark, and it will deduce that we have come. No, we must simply entrap it – if its eyes return to the cerebrate, then none of them shall be any the wiser. They will think that it's merely a glitch of some kind."

Zeratul said something like a swearword in an ancient Protoss tongue, and then said, _It seems that, despite my talents at covert operations, I have too rarely had a mission in which the enemy did not know of our presence. I defer to your wisdom in this, Tosh, for it surpasses my own. You would suggest that I ensure that no other control Zerg is watching, and if not, to perform a Void prison, that we may quickly pass unnoticed?_

"Would an Overlord be able to see the Void Prison, I wonder?" Tosh asked him. "The psionic energies are invisible to most humans – only those with such talent of their own can see it. Should the same not be true for Zerg?"

Zeratul stared at him. _Truly, _he said quietly, _You are wise beyond your years, Tosh. I have been Protoss so long that I cannot think like a Zerg as I once did. You are quite right – Only an Overseer or Spore Crawler could see the Void Prison. So I shall search for them alone. I thank you. Expect my return in five minutes' time. _And he Blinked into a puff of smoke, reappearing on the cliff above them – to their eyes, at least, for to the Zerg, he was as invisible as he had been before. And then, a moment later, he had gone away, past their line of sight and behind the cliff.

Cynder and Tosh stood there for a time in silence, before it was broken by one of the many questions she wished to pose to the Spectre who had imprisoned Spyro and her. "Tosh," she began bluntly, "I know you have the answers to most of what's happening to us. So answer me this, please: why does Spyro feel this odd connection to the Protoss, and me to the Zerg?"

Tosh looked at her, unsmiling. On the battlefield of Aiur, he seemed different, less of a slightly unhinged man trained to kill, and more of a man who knew the difference between battle and carnage, and how to avoid them both. "I'll tell you this, Cynder, and this alone. It's because he is Purple, and you are Black. There are other reasons, but that is why it is you two and not some others of your kind."

"What do our colors have anything to do with it?" she asked, confused.

He gave her a wide smirk. "That is for me to know and for you to find out."

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><p><strong>AN: And I say exactly what Tosh just did. Okay, a little news. I've revived another of my stories, so now I have four going on, and also, I'll only update ever now at times between Friday and Monday – never during the main week. Okay? That gives me the opportunity to get a little headway on these stories. Anyway, read and review! Thanks!**


	7. Chapter 7: The Battle Begins

**A/N: Hi again, all! I am back with a vengeance and a chapter! Enjoy!**

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><p><span>Chapter VII<span>

**The Battle Begins**

"_War makes rattling good history, but peace is poor reading."_  
>~Thomas Hardy, <em>The Dynasts<em>

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><p>Soon after, Zeratul returned. <em>The Overseer is sealed, <em>he said quickly. _We must make haste!_

Tosh nodded once. "Understood," he said quietly. And he and Cynder followed the ancient Protoss deeper into the gorge.

Tosh was clearly nervous, Cynder could see. He looked up towards the cliffs to either side so frequently it looked as though he had an involuntary twitch. Even the collected Protoss Templar looked shifty.

_Why?_ Cynder wondered.

The answer came in a flash and a flurry of blades from on high. They were like stone daggers, covered in a strange slime. Tosh and Zeratul, both clearly expecting something like this, were able to doge the spikes. Cynder took a couple to the shoulder, but they bounced off her armor, leaving only minute dents and scratches.

As soon as she collected herself from the shock, she reacted, battle-hardened instincts from the Dark War guiding her into a kneeling position and then a roll into the shadow of a rocky outcrop from the cliff from which the attack had come.

Tosh and Zeratul were there already. "Spore Crawlers," hissed the Spectre furiously. "They've found us. They know we're here. Nothing now can change that."

Cynder clenched her teeth. Spyro's face looked very worried on her monitor, but she didn't have time to reassure him now. "There's only one thing to do then, isn't there?" she asked. "We move, as fast as we can. We have to get to the plateau and clear the landing site. They know we're here, yes, but all that means is that we've got a time limit now, that being however long it takes them to send their whole force after us.

_Yes, _said Zeratul. _We cannot waste time in combat. We must hurry. Go! Run! Follow me!_

And they ran, weaving through the rain of spines as the Hydralisks on the hills fired on them. Cynder's mechanized bulk made it nigh on impossible to doge the blade storm, but she was able to divert most of the power to the more armored sections of her suit and away from the vital areas of exposed mechanics. At least she felt no pain –

She cried out suddenly as one of the spines cut a wire near the cockpit. Electricity coursed through her veins for a moment, before being cut off by the suits natural defense mechanisms. For the instant of fiery pain, her eyes dimmed, the world went even darker than it normally was through her tinted-glass visor, and she stumbled on her steel legs. When her sight cleared she was still running, and she saw Spyro's face looking horrified, his eyes seeking hers. She smiled at him through the tears that had appeared in that one moment of agony and mouthed, "I'm okay."

She kept following after the Protoss and Spectre ahead of her, and they continued to move at a run, even after the Hydralisk's fire had faded away behind them. Then, all of a sudden, Zeratul came to a halt, and then Tosh. She skidded to a stop too – just in time. The gorge fell away just infront of her into a misty abyss with no clear bottom just in front of her. Another foot and she doubted that any armor of shields or carapace would have protected her.

_We have arrived,_ said Zeratul softly. Across the chasm lay what was more an island than a plateau. _This was my base area,_ continued the Protoss. _This place in particular, though, will not have any buildings of ours. _Now he closed his glowing eyes and his thoughts were no longer channeled to her and Tosh alone, but to their fleet high above. _Are the landing parties ready? _he asked.

_Ours is, _answered another voice of another Protoss. _Raynor's will be down soon in dropships._

_And do we have any of the Terran's nukes at our disposal? _asked Zeratul.

_We do; the Hyperion is ready to launch them, _said the other Protoss.

_Then Tosh, _Zeratul said to the Spectre, who cut him off with a nod.

"Understood," said he, his feral grin returning, and he took his sniper rifle out of his holster and aimed it at a point of empty ground a ways into the island. He pressed a small button on the gun, and a beam of red light shot out and marked the ground there. "Target acquired," he said.

_The Hyperion has fired its missile! _said the Protoss in the fleet after an instant. _I estimate that it should arrive at its target in approximately two minutes, given our distance._

"Good," said Tosh. "Now my favorite part: Waiting for the blasted missile."

Zeratul shrugged. _It is better than waiting for a Planet Cracker to fire, I assure you, _he said flatly.

"I don't disagree," muttered the Spectre. "I was there on the mission to Haven. That Mothership of yours had a rate of fire so slow I can't believe it's your main areal blast weapon."

_It wasn't always,_ said Zeratul quietly. _We had many, far worse weapons during the Kalath Intercession._

"The Colossi aren't that terrain destructive –" Tosh began, but Zeratul cut him off.

_I was not referring to the Colossi,_ said the old Nerazim. _We had many other, worse weapons in those days. Weapons that I would not call back up even at the fulfilling of the Overmind's vision. Now look! The missile approaches! _And he pointed upward to the sky.

Cynder looked, and saw a rocket larger than one of the Goliath walkers she'd seen in the Armory falling from the sky. In a moment, it made contact with the ground right at the point of light Tosh had been laying as he talked with Zeratul.

Cynder's eyes widened. The cacophony of light and noise that crashed through the air was like nothing she had ever imagined. The nuke exploded, leaving a totally clear field, empty of Zerg – as well as any plant life.

_Site cleared, _said Zeratul, unaffected by the missile. _Begin warping in._

Suddenly he reached out and grasped both Cynder and Tosh's arms, and before Cynder could make a move, there was darkness swirling about her.

Before she could react to that, however, she was back on Aiur, with one key difference. She looked around in confusion for a moment, before she remembered Zeratul's Blink.

The one difference was that now she was on the other side of the chasm.

The prisms of Protoss warp were beginning to appear all around her. A probe had already appeared, and had just opened a warp channel for a nexus near a resource base.

Another Protoss had warped in just beside them, Cynder noticed. It was taller than many of the others, standing at nearly three meters. Clad in platinum armor like Zeratul's, it bore a similar warp blade on its right wrist and a bulkier band on its left, like, Cynder saw, those of the Zealot footsoldiers. It was plainly much younger than Zeratul, for its face was far less wrinkled and shriveled, and its eyes were a luminescent blue, like the light of Protoss warp energy.

It knelt before Zeratul just after it had appeared. _Greetings, Exalted One, _it – or rather he, for its voice was plainly male – said. _My Mentor, Akhaz, has requested that I remain with you for the first day of this battle that I may observe your skills. Is this acceptable to you?_

Zeratul looked at the Protoss in surprise. _Akhaz? _he said in surprise. _I recall him. But why has he sent you to observe me? What is your name?_

_I am Shazun,_ said the younger Protoss. _Prior to my induction into the Templar Caste of Nerazim, I was a mechanic of Stalker Blinking machines, and I wield one such device myself. _The Protoss gestured at a vaguely rectangular metal object harnessed onto his back, which glowed and whirred in various places. _I use this technique in combat, but I still do not fully understand the psionics of it. To this end, I wish to observe your use of it in combat, as you are the only Templar in history to have mastered its use without the aid of any machine._

Zeratul nodded slowly. _A noble project to research, _he said. _Very well, you may join us. This is Cynder, in the armor, _Cynder gave a little wave, _and this is Tosh. _Tosh nodded at the Protoss in respect.

_Thank you, Prelate, _said Shazun, bowing to the Protoss and nodding at each of the others in turn.

Suddenly, another voice snapped into all their minds. _The four of you are needed at the eastern lines, _it said tersely. _Go, quickly. The Zerg have come._

_Very well, _Zeratul replied. He led the three others past the warp channels that were even now summoning buildings into reality and to the eastern exit of the base.

There were Protoss there already. And there were the Zerg, too, waiting for them.

* * *

><p>"Incoming transmission!"<p>

The adjutant's voice rang through the almost-silent bridge of the Starship Hyperion. Matt didn't even need an order to answer – he'd already pressed the button. A Protoss in the golden armor of a Khalai appeared on the screen.

_James Raynor,_ said the Protoss, and its voice was female – though Spyro had, somehow, already known that by her less pronounced jaw and smoother skin.

Jim blinked in surprise. "Executor Selendis," he said respectfully. "It's been a while."

_Indeed,_ said the Executor. Her eyes were ever-so-slightly downcast. _The landing site has been cleared, and our forces are warping in as we speak._

"Good," said Jim. "Move us into the upper atmosphere," he told the pilot, who nodded, hit a few buttons, and pulled a lever or two. Spyro felt the motion of the ship change slightly under his feet.

_Now that business is clear,_ said Selendis after a moment, _I must tell you that I received a message from the planet Haven recently. I assume you heard that the woman Hanson has successfully found a cure for those in the early stages of Infestation?_

"Yeah, we heard," said the Terran, and the atmosphere was suddenly thick with a plethora of emotions, from embarrassment to anger to sadness.

_I will not apologize, _said Selendis quietly. _What I did was what any Khalai Templar would do, and I know it was right in the circumstances. But I am… glad that she found that cure._

"So are we, Selendis. So are we," said Raynor after a moment. After another pause he said, "Look, the past is the past. I didn't lose many men that day, and what happened could have ended much worse. Right now, we need to focus. Things could get real ugly real fast if we aren't careful. My men'll be down there in about ten minutes. Just secure the base until then, and we'll join the fray when we get there."

Selendis stared at him for a long moment, and then she said quietly, _That day, I said that your service to Aiur was known to me. I could not have been more mistaken. We, all our race, is indebted to you. En taro Tassadar. _And she was gone.

"Spyro," said the Commander after a moment, "I want you to head down to the hangar now. Get into the first dropship. Matt, call 'em and tell 'em it's my orders."

Spyro nodded. "Thanks," he said quietly.

"Don't worry about it," said Raynor as the MageWalker left.

* * *

><p>Cynder gritted her teeth. The volume was turned down, so that she couldn't hear all of the outside noise, but the wave of dissonant roars, cries, lasers, warp blades, and her and Tosh's gunfire was still starting to give her a headache. She'd shut off her cloak – it wasn't much use in this kind of combat, she was more likely to be hit by chance than because the enemy was aiming at her – turned her hands into spinning gatling guns, and was now in the process of helping the Protoss mow down the Zerg. Their numbers were such, though, that she wasn't sure how long it's be before that plan turned into 'give up and run'.<p>

_Just a short while longer! _called out the voice of the Protoss in charge of all this – the Judicator or Executor or whatever; frankly Cynder could care less. _The Photon Cannon are nearly prepared!_

Cynder couldn't really remember what a Photon Cannon was, but she hoped it was something good. She asked as much to Zeratul beside her. "Is that a good thing?" she screamed over the noise as she perforated a Hydralisk that had been harassing a nearby Zealot.

_Yes! _Zeratul called back as he slashed through the torso of a Roach and leapt to the side as the monster's acidic insides spewed out.

"Oh," shouted Cynder as she reduced another Zergling to geography with her shoulder grenades. "Good!" she added after a moment's thought as she, forgoing technology, gave a nearby monster a fist/gun to the face that sent it back five feet into another.

Now there was a tiny lull in the combat, which allowed her to catch her breath for a moment. All around her, the others were still fighting, but for this one moment, there was no Zerg in front of her.

So far, only a few Protoss had died, and – to her relief – Zeratul wasn't one of the few. Nor, is seemed, was Tosh, as she saw his cloaked figure run past her and a Baneling about twenty feet from her suddenly develop a very bad chest cavity. It exploded, and a lot of Zerg died. She grinned; Tosh definitely knew what he was doing.

And then there was a Hydralisk in front of her. She sighed and gave it a laser to the face. It went down, and with it, her respite, for behind it was a Baneling.

She hit _that _with a grenade. It became scenery. So did quite a few other Zerg behind and beside it.

She raised her guns. There was a Roach coming now. She fired. She fired some more. And a little more…

Eventually, she lost patience and hit it with a grenade too. It died, finally. She had long since decided that she despised having Roaches as enemies. The things just _didn't want to die_.

She really wasn't enjoying this, she decided as she socked a nearby Hydralisk in the belly. Every time she killed a Zerg she felt, at once, both happy and sad; Happy for two reasons and sad for one. She was happy because she was helping the Protoss get back Aiur, and because she was freeing the Zerg from what she somehow knew instinctively was a life of slavery. But she was sad because, regardless of anything else, she was killing Zerg, and that was something she didn't want to do.

_Oh well, _she thought as she catalyzed a Zergling's perforation. _At least Aiur will be free. That'll make Spyro happy._

A moment later, she couldn't remember why she'd thought that.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: This one was hard. I had to fulfill the promise of action that I made to Soul of a Lion, and still keep the story good. Action, you see, does not agree with me. I'm not good at it. I hope I wasn't too bad here. Keeping it a little light-hearted helped me, and you may have noticed the results.**

**Anyway, Shazun is an OC belonging to Tempest of Reach. That by no means implies that I'm taking requests. It was hard enough to get this guy in, and the negotiations I had with Tempest to change things up so he'd fit in were long and arduous. You'll get to know him better later.**

**So how was the chapter? I'm unsure about this one, so if the action or anything wasn't to your liking, tell me so I can fix it! Review, please!**


	8. Chapter 8: The First Push

**A/N: Whoa. This action wasn't actually that hard to write. What was really hard was finding a quote. As you can see, I eventually just went to Lord of the Rings. I love those books!**

**Anyway, here we'll learn a bit more about Shazun, meet another (probably more minor) OC – this one's mine – get in a battle, have a couple monologues at the end, and a bit more Spyro/Protoss connection. Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><span>Chapter VIII<span>

**The First Push**

"'…_Do you wish to see the greatness of our army?...'  
>'I looked out to see the dawn'…"<em>  
>~The Uruk-hai and Aragorn in <em>The Lord of the Rings<em>, by J.R.R. Tolkien

* * *

><p>Spyro 's feet hit the earthen ground. All around him, Protoss were rushing hither and thither, setting up the base and helping out with the perimeter skirmishes. He blinked in confusion. Where, in all this mess, was Cynder?<p>

_The Photon Cannon are laid at the northern gate! _called the psionic voice of the Protoss Judicator in charge of the operation. _All warriors, transfer to the western lines!_

_Ah, good, _thought Spyro. _Instructions._

He decided, not knowing which way was west, to follow the Protoss who seemed to be generally moving in one direction. There were no Terran soldiers with him – the dropship he'd been on had brought only SCVs.

As it happened, he went in the right direction. The noises of battle soon reached his ears, and as they grew louder, he lowered his input volume so as not to blast out his eardrums. Soon he could see the battle. The Protoss were winning, for the Zerg were only a scouting patrol – those Zerg that had already been here when the nuke hit. This meant that, while there were a lot of them, there weren't any of the really deadly, massive Zerg, and nor were there air units. At least, not yet.

He quickly activated the guns that came forth from his mechanical hands and leapt into the fray. Almost immediately, there was a Hydralisk in his face, hissing at him. Before he could react, it shot a spine at him and scraped the metal of his arm. He raised his guns and started firing.

He'd only been a part of the battle for about three minutes when the Judicator's voice broke into his thoughts again. _Fall back!_ it commanded. _The Photon Cannon are ready! Fall back to the base!_

As one, all of the Protoss turned and ran. Spyro followed suit, only occasionally turning to fire a volley of lead at the pursuing Zerg. This became unnecessary, however, when he saw a massive orb of light hit one in the face, blasting it backwards into its compatriot. They had reached the range of the Photon Cannon, and the Zerg retreated.

As soon as they were safely inside the base, He looked around for Cynder. She was quicker. Before he'd even noticed her, she was standing in front of him, and her melodic voice spoke though the cockpit's speakers. "Spyro! You're here already!"

"You know me, Cyn," he joked, meeting her eyes on the monitor. "Always all too eager to get into the fray."

She rolled her stunning green eyes at him. "Oh, be quiet," she laughed, but before anything else could be said, Zeratul's voice broke into their conversation.

_Your name is Spyro, is it not? _he asked, and now he was coming towards them, another, younger Dark Templar following.

"Yes," said Spyro. "Hello, Zeratul. I think I owe you an explanation."

_Indeed, _said the Prelate. _But now, perhaps, is not the time – we will be moving in a few minutes. I feel that we should operate together in this battle, however – if Cynder is anything to judge by, the abilities of your armor will greatly complement my own powers. This, by the way, _he gestured at the other Templar, who nodded at him, _is Shazun. He is to observe me in combat through the course of this battle, as he is attempting to learn the specialized Blink technique._

"I see," said Spyro, trying to bow to Shazun, realizing his armor wasn't made for it, and saluting instead, as he'd seen the Terrans do. "I'd be proud to work and fight by your side."

_Good, I am glad. _Said Zeratul, but now he was interrupted.

"All right, men," said Raynor's voice inside Spyro's helmet. "Artanis and I have coordinated our orders. We're not sending any Terrans into the forward parties now, except for Spyro and Cynder. You two, follow Zeratul. You take your orders directly from him unless and until I say otherwise. Got it?"

"Yes," Spyro said, transmitting his response to the Commander.

_I have received my orders from Artanis, _said Zeratul after a moment. _The two of you are assigned to my company, as I requested. Come! We move north, with a contingent of Dark Templar. Our objective is to secure the northward supply nodes, and to hold them until reinforcements can arrive with probes to build a base._

He turned, and walked with Shazun towards the north side exit from the base. Spyro and Cynder followed.

* * *

><p>Their company consisted of the four of them, a company of three Stalkers, and five Zealots. They had only just passed out of the Photon Cannon's line of fire when they were attacked. It was a relatively small party of Zerg, but it still had their group outnumbered, if not outgunned. The Zealots and Stalkers quickly formed ranks with the Zealots holding position in front of the Stalkers and the said walkers providing support fire. This left the four specialists to do as they saw fit.<p>

Spyro at once saw, with his trained battlefield eyes, that the Zerg's brute force was all centered around the Zealot line's left flank. He decided that was where he was most needed.

Without bothering to consult Cynder in the way that birds don't signal to one another when it's time to take off, he jogged off in that direction. She didn't follow, but he knew she understood what he was doing – and if she'd disapproved, he'd have known. Instead, out of the corner of his eye, he saw her go with Zeratul to sneak around behind the Zerg lines and hit them from the rear while cloaked. Shazun followed Spyro, however.

_So, your name is Spyro?_ the Dark Templar asked him conversationally as they made their way to the area of the skirmish.

"Yes," said Spyro. "You're Shazun, right?"

_Correct, _said the Templar. _I hope you live up to my expectations in this battle._

Spyro grinned – a battlefield smile. "Do be careful out there," he teased. "We wouldn't want you getting hurt."

Shazun laughed, but didn't answer, because at that moment, they met the Zerg. Spyro saw Shazun ignite a Warp Blade on his right hand and a shorter Psiblade on his left before disappearing in his signature blink. A rattling scream from ahead told the Dragon that the Templar had succeeded in getting right into the thick of the action.

An instant later, Spyro found himself rushing straight into a Hydralisk's spines.

He rotated, pushing his armored shoulder into the strike and bashing right into the beast's head, pushing it back. It hissed and clicked at him, swinging its scythe-like claws around for an overhead strike.

It was at this point that Spyro realized that he'd forgotten to convert his hands to gatling form. Cursing himself and the MageWalker in every language of Dragons, Cheetahs, and Dragonflies he knew, as well as in the Basic tongue, he briskly darted his hand forward and caught the Zerg's arm. With a torque, the bone shattered in his grip. The beast screamed in pain and rage, but it couldn't do much else because Spyro had tensed his fingers like the claw that his real body possessed, and struck at its face.

With a sickening, tearing sound, one of its mandibles came off in its grip. It howled for a moment, and then he struck it in the relatively soft tissue on the underside of its jaw with his new weapon, tearing through the muscle into the cavity of its mouth. Its roars no longer held any rage, only pain. He struck it with a haymaker punch from his right hand and it fell. Before it could rise, Shazun had darted forward and slit its throat with his Warp Blade.

_A good kill, for one unarmed! _said the Nerazim before the fray whisked him away again.

Now Spyro did set up his gatling guns, hitting a nearby Zergling with a grenade as he made the conversion. As soon as he had finished, he locked on to a Roach and started firing.

As has been mentioned before, Roaches are often depressingly had to kill. So it proved with this one. In the end, Spyro was forced to run straight into the jet of acid it spewed and literally jump on it until he crushed both its exoskeleton and its endoskeleton. While he was doing this, he was also firing at Zergling after Zergling, keeping the quadruped beasts off his back. As soon as the Roach was dead, he met a Hydralsik in a ranged battle.

It fired first, but he swung his shoulder around and blocked the brunt of the strike. Swinging his arm around, he launched a flurry of lead at its chest. Some of the bullets punctured the carapace, but most of them merely skidded along the side of the hardened exoskeleton.

The Hydralisk screamed at him and fired again. This time, one of the spines hit an exposed piece of machinery in his elbow. His right arm array seized up, and at the same time, a momentary jolt of electricity shot through him, making him roar in pain – the first bestial sound his Draconic maw had made since his arrival in Koprulu.

The roar transferred through the speakers on his armor, and the Hydralisk froze in surprise, not expecting such a bestial sound out of a Terran machine. This gave Spryo the opening he needed to turn his left arm about and perforate its face with a few well-placed lead pellets.

As it fell, dead, he looked around. The Zerg seemed defeated for this skirmish. All that were left were a few Zerglings, and these were retreating as he watched. Even as he saw this, one of them fell down under Stalker fire and never got up.

All in all, their losses were lighter than expected with the size of their force. Two Zealots and a Stalker now lay on the slick, creep-infested grounds of Aiur, never again to rise for battle. 'Lay,' of course, being a loose term. The Zealots, as their Caste often did, had entered into a state of perpetual Warp as streams of semi-consciousness. The Stalker's Armor had exploded, leaving bits of metal all over the scorched earth and no sign at all of the body.

Before they went on, all the Protoss bowed their heads for a moment, in honor of the fallen. Spyro and Cynder did the same, though the aliens couldn't see it. Then, as they were gathering themselves to continue, Zeratul spoke.

_Our losses have been unfortunate, _he said to them all. _But we all understood the risks when we came to Aiur. If any now are faint of heart, say so._

_Do not insult us, Prelate, _growled a Zealot. _You may be a Nerazim of Shakuras, but we Zealots are Khalai. We will never abandon Aiur._

Zeratul's eyes flared brightly for a moment at the slight on his order, but then they dimmed again as he nodded. _Then I thank you for your aid. Together, we will bring back Aiur as it should have been. Now, Shazun – you used your Blink in the combat a few times, and I must say you are more proficient than I could have expected or hoped for._

_Thank you, Prelate Zeratul, _said Shazun.

_Do not thank me, _Zeratul replied, _For speaking as I see. Now, Spyro, Cynder, I saw your skills as well. I noticed both of you sustained injuries. Are you well now?_

Spyro saw Cynder testing her leg as he himself tried to use his right arm. _She must have gotten hit there, _he thought. _I hope she's okay._

Both the arm and the leg worked. "We're fine," said Cynder to the old Dark Templar.

_Good, _said Zeratul._ Then we shall go on. Follow my lead, and do not stray too far. There is evil here that does not sleep._

* * *

><p>He led them onward. There were no more attacks for the time that they trudged along, though they once had to break into a run to avoid what looked like a reconnaissance squadron of Scourges. They passed slick, creep-covered hills, fissures that went down into a misty abyss, and the occasional ruins of Terran or Protoss ships or buildings. At one point, as they passed by what was left of something like a Terran forward base, with bunkers, barracks, and a fallen Battlecruiser, Zeratul came to a sudden halt, looking in silence upon the tarnished, blackened, or Infested metal. "What is it?" Spyro asked, jogging up to him. Cynder followed a moment later.<p>

_I remember this place, _Zeratul murmured. _It was one of Raynor's more… ill-fated bases in the battle._

_During the Brood War? _Shazun asked.

_Yes, _said Zeratul sadly. _I watched this outpost fall. I watched as the Zerg overran it and took the surviving Terrans for Infestation. I stood there, in that cleft, _here he pointed out a gap between two hills, _And watched as all those innocent Terrans were destroyed. I couldn't go to aid them – I was ordered to remain there and make sure no Zerg crossed my line. I succeeded in that, where if I had gone to the camp I would have failed, but it was a painful victory._

_The past is the past, _said one of the two surviving Stalkers suddenly, _And the future awaits. But what we must remember – and what we so often forget – is that what they flow through is now. There is a Terran proverb that is something like that. I do not presume to offer you advice, only to remind you of what I am sure you know already, Lord Prelate. The dead are gone – pity them not. Pity the living._

_You are wise, _said Zeratul to the Stalker, his voice almost reverent. _What is your name?_

_In life, _said the Stalker, _I was named Urkhan. But I am no wiser than any other Stalker or an Immortal. Death cleans our eyes and thoughts._

_I am ashamed, _said Zeratul, _That I never valued your kind as anything but warriors. I must remember your wisdom, Urkhan, and I thank you. _He turned and faced his assembled troops, looking over thamin silence. _Come, _he said after a moment._ Let us continue. For Aiur._

_For Aiur! _All the other Protoss roared in answer.

"For Aiur!" Spyro joined in the cry.

The battle was only beginning. But with luck and skill, they would prevail.

They had to.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I thought that was pretty good! What did you think? Button's right down there!**


	9. Chapter 9: Falling

**A/N: Well, I'm back. I'll admit – I finished this in literally four hours. The rest of the time I was wrestling with the bane of our existence: Writer's block. Sorry about the wait. I hope it doesn't happen again. **

**Now, a note regarding the series' continuity: First, there's the Hierarch Trilogy – the third/second book of which is unnamed, since, if I can, I'd rather use my title for Book 2, 'Hierarch', as the title for Book 3, since ending the series with a book by the series' name is always cool. Still, I don't yet have another title.**

**Anyway, after that will come another series, set after the original trilogy, called tentatively the Remnants Trilogy. That means six books, plus a couple spin-offs I've got ideas for.**

**Anyway, that's about it. Now, I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

><p><span>Chapter IX<span>

**Falling**

"_A dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world."_  
>~Oscar Wilde<p>

* * *

><p>The company soon arrived at the designated supply node area without any further trouble. As soon as they left the hill leading up to it and set foot on the plateau, Zeratul started to give orders. <em>Stalkers, <em>he said, _On that hill, now! Cynder, you go with them. Zealots, guard this entryway. Shazun, lead them. Spyro, you and I shall defend the other. Be ready, all of you. We may not have much time._

All of them sprang into action. Spyro saw Cynder climbing up the hill Zeratul had pointed out as he himself followed the Templar at a run across the plateau. Looking back, he saw Cynder's armored form had knelt atop the hill, holding her gun-hands out before her pointing down the hill they'd just come up. He and Zeratul positioned themselves evenly across the ramp-like rise onto the flat area.

"And now we wait," quipped the Dragon.

_And now we wait, _agreed the Protoss. _And while we wait, you can at least begin your tale._

Spyro hesitated. His promise had been rashly made, he saw that now, but it was a promise. Still… "My story will be unbelievable," he warned. "But I swear every word's true. Will you believe me?"

_I will listen first, and what you say will not be disregarded, _said Zeratul. _I make no promises, but fear not that I will throw words aside though they seem impossible. I have heard, told, and even made tales that are impossible many a time._

Spyro grinned. "I believe it," he said, thinking that one such as the Nerazim probably had much greater stories to tell than he himself did.

So he began. "Cynder and I… aren't from Koprulu," he said. "We're Dragons of the land of Avalar."

Zeratul listened without interruption to the tale all the while Spyro spoke. The story was interrupted, however, just as they reached the Night of Eternal Darkness. "The cave was falling in on us," Spyro said. "I remember feeling my power rising up, and…"

_Prelate Zeratul! _Shazun's voice called in both of their minds. _The Probes are here! But come quickly: They are pursued!_

_Very well, young Shazun, _said the aged Templar. _We are coming. _To Spyro he said, _We will finish this tale later. Hurry!_

They did; both were sprinting as fast as their legs would carry them when they saw the Probes. The machines were already setting up Pylons, a Nexus, and two Assimilators at the Vespene Geysers.

Zeratul was in the battle first, despite being the slower runner, by means of his Blink – vanishing from his place behind Spyro, he suddenly reappeared in a puff of smoke between a pair of Hydralisks – both of which proceeded to fall to his suddenly drawn Warp Blade. Cynder, he saw, stood atop the hill, firing at an Overseer high above, and Shazun was a whirlwind of blades as he spun about in the midst of a swarm of Zerglings. The Zealots were focused on a pair of Roaches, while the Stalkers helped Cynder to eliminate the Overseers – there were three of them, and the organic debris of what the young Dragon could only assume had been a fourth.

Deciding that the skies were where he was needed the most, he quickly took out one Overseer with a laser, quickly followed by a grenade, and then aimed his gatling guns at the same Overseer Cynder and the Stalkers were targeting. It soon fell, and they all switched to the other. But suddenly Spryo saw, out of the corner of his eye, something coming towards him quickly, or rather a few somethings. It was a small horde of Zerglings, and they were headed straight for him.

Fortunately for him, the Overseer died at that moment, solving his dilemma for him. In one fluid motion, he whirled, launching a grenade directly into the center of the swarm. Almost half of the insectoid beast fell, and the rest he burst forth at with lead. They fell, on by one – but not quickly enough, and Spyro knew it. He started to walk backwards as quickly as he could.

Just his luck, of course, that there was a protruding stone just in his path. He fell onto his back, somehow keeping his weapons trained on the Zerg. _Help! _he either cried or thought, he couldn't tell which, and then they were on him. He was surrounded in an instant, and some of the Zerglings even climbed on top of him. Blades slashed and scraped at his metal armor, denting it and giving him a headache, but not hurting him – all save one, which swung and sank deep into the area under his right arm, cutting several wires. His arm locked at once, immobile, but that was the least of his worries.

As if in slow motion, he saw the electric current running through his cockpit in the form of yellow light for an instant – and after that instant, he saw nothing more as the pain arced through his small body – more than he'd ever experienced through the entire war. And, unlike the last time his armor's cords had been cut, it didn't go away so quickly this time. For what felt like hours, though it was really only about half a minute, the electric current ran through his body, until by the end of it some part of his mind would have welcomed death as an ending. Then, finally, it stopped, as at last the breach in his armor was repaired by the suits auto-repair bots.

_Spyro! _ cried Shazun's voice as if from far away, and then all sound faded.

* * *

><p>Cynder watched, helpless, as the Zerglings swarmed over her love's armored form. "No!" she screamed, but she didn't aim at the writhing mass, knowing that her bullets could all too easily puncture the Zerg shell and destroy Spyro inside. Fortunately, she saw Shazun already making his way to the fallen Dragon, and quickly cutting down the Zerg about the MageWalker. As the Zerg fell, she saw that the armor suit, though damaged, did not seem to have broken open. She knew he might have been shocked by the electric current that was triggered whenever a major wire in the suit's engineering was severed, but those were quickly repaired… weren't they?<p>

_Focus, Cynder! _Cried one of the Stalkers, causing her to look back down, startled. She saw that she had been pointing her weapon into a patch of Zerg-free ground for who knew how long.

She trained it on a Roach. _Inhale… Exhale… _Whether or not Spyro was fine – the fear rose up in her again, but she crushed it down brutally – Whether or not Spyro was fine, it was not the time for worry now. That was for after the battle. First came surviving to find out.

The Roach died with the help of a Zealot down below, so she turned her fire onto a Hydralisk. Then, when it had fallen, the gun turned onto a Zegling. Then… there was nothing.

She looked around. The battle was over – there were no more Zerg anywhere within range. Wasting no more time, she turned and ran down the hill, the Stalkers behind her. Shazun and Zeratul were carrying the fallen armor back away from the field towards the now completed Nexus. Wordlessly, she stepped into line with them, helping them to support the MageWalker's considerable weight. And now the worry, the fear, the pain was back. What if Spyro didn't make it out of this? What if he was already dead?

She shook her head vigorously inside the cockpit. _No. No. He can't be, _she told herself, thinking of the war with Malefor. They'd come through challenges no one should have been able to survive, and they were still alive here, weren't they? In her heart, though, she knew that there was a difference between fighting one's was through Grublins and surviving the Zerg Swarm.

Giving up on convincing herself that there was no risk he was dead, she settled for simply whispering to herself, so quietly that the microphones in the cockpit couldn't pick it up, "Don't leave me, Spyro. Please. I need you."

* * *

><p><em>Spyro… dreamt? Was that the right word? Dreams were the visions that came to those who slept, but was he asleep, or was he dead?<em>

Hierarch…

_A voice? It was old, older than Ignitus', or Malefor's, older even than Zeratul's. It was deep and masculine, but most importantly of all,it had a rasping quality that made him recognize it at once as being the voice of a Dragon._

Hierarch…

"Who are you?_" Spyro tried to say, but his own voice was lost in a void that was open all around him. Suddenly, it seemed, it had always been there._

Hierarch, come away…

_There was a light in the yawning nothingness. The same yellow as the electricity in the cockpit of his MageWalker – and indeed, the color of the Electricity element which he could breathe. With a thought Spyro propelled himself forward._

Hierarch, no…

_The voice was now filled with fear. He wondered what was wrong, and if he could help._

_This he thought as he moved himself slowly, almost without thinking, towards the yellow light._

Hierarch… Do not…

_It was the voice again, and it sounded almost panicked now – quite a contrast from its originally calm aura. Suddenly it came to him that perhaps the voice was speaking to him._

Come away_, it had said. _No_, it had pleaded._

_Suddenly he realized that he was still moving towards the electric light, which had now become a blue that looked more like electricity than the yellow he was used to. He tried to stop his motion, but he couldn't – the lightning-light had hooked him, and he could no more resist it than he could stop loving Cynder._

_Cynder…_

_And now, suddenly, there cut into the darkness a third voice, a voice that stopped him in his tracks._

**Father! No! Stop!**

_He froze at last. Father? This voice was new – female, and likewise Draconic. It was young – as young as he was or perhaps even younger. It was filled with pain and fear like nothing he had ever heard before. He longed to help her, feeling a strange instinct welling up inside his heart, a protective feeling very much like that he felt for Cynder. What was this?_

**Come back!**

_And he tried. He strained himself, both in body and mind, as hard as he could, trying to leave the void, trying to escape the blue light, but as though his effort had caused the inexorable pull to begin anew, he found himself moving backwards, toward the light._

No… _he thought._

_He redoubled his efforts, trying to escape, but it was in vain. He was coming closer to the electric light constantly, unable to stop himself._

**No! Father!**

**Father!**

_Another new voice – this one also young, though it was male – but it didn't have the power to stop him._

_And then a final voice cut into the darkness. This voice was one he knew well. He should – nearly every night he dreamed of laying by its owner under the stars in the Valley of Avalar or in the Enchanted Forest by the Twilight Falls. It was a voice which had told him its owner loved him, and to that owner he could reply in kind._

_**Stop.**_

_No panic. No fear. It was as though, rather than fearing he couldn't escape, it was chiding him slightly for not having done so _–_ but it couldn't stop him either._

_**Fool. Only you can do that.**_

"But I can't!_" he wailed. "_I'm trying!_"_

_The light was now very bright, and looking around, he saw that it had coalesced into a shape, made of electricity – a shape like a cross between Protoss and Zerg. It's eyes glowed red as Zeratul's glowed green._

**Come,**_ it whispered in a voice that crackled like lightning and was as ancient as the world itself. _**Come, young Dragonling… come to me…**

"I won't!_"_ _he screamed, but it merely laughed and stretched out a hand of lightning to take him._

_**Come away.**_

_**Wake up.**_

* * *

><p><strong>AN: IS SPYRO ALIVE? Good question! Anyway, LOTS of foreshadowing in that dream sequence. Hope you liked it!**

**On a private note to Digolgrin, who knows about as much as I do about this series since I bounce my ideas off of him: If you give a single spoiler in a review, I'll KILL YOU! Just kidding. But seriously, please don't.**

**Reviews do us all good!**


	10. Chapter 10: Khala

**A/N: Hey again, all! I'm back! And guess what? IT WAS FAST! This chapter was fun as heck. Hope you like it!**

* * *

><p><span>Chapter X<span>

**Khala**

"_Our wills are aligned through the holy Khala!"_  
>~Void Ray pilot, StarCraft II<p>

* * *

><p>Spyro's eyes snapped open. His entire body ached and tingled, but he was alive. Looking around through the glass of the cockpit, he saw that he was in a building of gold metal – likely of Protoss construction.<p>

Regardless of anything else, when one has just awoken in a strange and unfamiliar environment, there is a checklist of responses to go through. The first item depends on whether one is in pain. Spyro was, so,

"Ow," he said.

Then comes the first action that is always taken – checking oneself to ensure that all bits are in their proper places. Spyro checked. They were.

Now there is another response that is universal. "Where am I?" the Purple Dragon wondered aloud.

There was no response. This left the Dragon with a few choices of action. The most appealing of these was to try to fall back asleep and trust that everything would turn out all right, but he had a feeling that perhaps that might not be the best, given the circumstances, what with the Battle of Aiur going on and such.

Another, much less appealing and far more dangerous option was to get up and find answers for oneself. Spyro considered this for a while but decided that he'd give his third and final option a chance first.

"Hello?" he called.

There was no reply. "Ugh," he muttered, and pushed himself upright. He tested his arms and legs. The armor responded fluidly; good. It seemed to have repaired itself while he was unconscious. There was only one passage out of the little cell in which he had lain, and that was open. Sighing for the harshness of the world, he walked out through it.

The building was definitely Protoss – the construction didn't remotely resemble Terran architecture. The young hero admired the gleaming surfaces lit with the lines of ethereal blue light that ran through the structure.

Suddenly, as he was just coming up to an adjoining hallway, a Protoss in blue robes ran out of it and turned away from him, running down the hallway, without ever noticing the MageWalker. Spyro blinked in surprise, and then followed.

As he ran after the robed creature, it struck him as odd that it couldn't hear his armor's thudding footsteps just behind it. Then it occurred to him – it must be listening deeply to the Khala; for it was definitely Khalai by the nerve cords braided and dangling to the ground behind it.

Now the idea struck him, and he cursed itself for not thinking of it sooner. Still chasing after the Protoss, he stretched out his mind to the Khala – and felt the warm blockage that the mysterious Templar – likely Urun – had placed upon him before. Spyro felt the block… and _pushed_. The Templar's mind gave ground like paper and the Khala was open, stunning the Dragon to a halt in physical motion. He hadn't meant to force his way into the Protoss Mind Link, only to give Urun a little nudge to show his Protoss allies that he was awake.

All this was thought in a fraction of an instant, before the massive wave of thought from the Khala swept over him.

_There is little time! Bring the Zealots around to their right flank!_

_No, you fool! That's where the Ultralisks are!_

_Not you, Alucair; the Admiral!_

…_Admiral? What…?_

And then, suddenly, a burst of thought from another source – and this was far more powerful than those he'd been encountering.

_**You! Terranling who accesses the Khala! Who are you, and how dare you – nay, how **_**could **_**you – push back my strength?**_

Now other voices broke in a clamor.

_Admiral? This Terranling bested you?_

_It feels little like a Terranling…_

_How could it defeat the mind of Urun?_

_Of course it is not like a Terranling! How could a common Terranling access the Khala?_

_It feels strong, one must admit…_

_Mayhap it is like unto Kerrigan, whose mind, it is said, is as great as that of the Hierarch._

_That is true, but even one of the strongest cannot beat an Executor with ease!_

_Kerrigan was unable to enter the Khala. You disprove your arguments with your own examples._

_When was it said that it was done with ease…?_

And now the voice of Urun drowned them all out.

_**You! Answer, now!**_

Spyro swallowed the saliva that was rising in his fear. _I didn't mean to break in! I just wanted to push on your mind a little to let you know I was awake and give me orders! Why did you fall back so easily?_

_**Easily? **_**Easily**_**? I did not 'Fall back', and that was no light pressure! Such an onslaught I have not felt since I last sparred with Selendis! Do not try to mask your malice behind such pitiful lies! I will crush you!**_

And the battle for Spyro's mind began with an offense by the High Executor.

The Dragon's knees buckled at the force of the attack and his MageWalker fell to the ground. But suddenly a strength of mind – like the strength of body he'd felt at times during the war when all seemed lost – filled his brain, and his thought lashed out against the Admiral.

The weapons of their thought seemed to form into blades of energy which met on the void and clashed, and once more Urun was thrown back by Spyro's strange strength – but this time Spyro didn't hesitate or stop. He rushed forward with his mind, instinctively changing its configuration from a crushing Warp Blade to a small, precise knife.

He lanced it forward and Urun only just barely blocked it, getting thrown back again in the process. Now Spyro again changed the weapon of his thought. This time it took the shape of a Terran C-14 rifle. Emotionlessly, and without even bothering to advance his consciousness forward, he battered Urun's mind with the mental equivalent of a hail of lead. Urun tried to dodge.

Unfortunately for the Templar, trying didn't win him his banana. His mind was punctured by Spyro's weapons, and Spyro, seizing the opportunity by instinct, rushed forward and vampirically latched onto the Protoss' wounds.

At once, he felt his mind connect to Urun's – and the connection was one-way. He felt the entire organized array of the Executor's thoughts displayed before him, and knew that the Templar couldn't access his. For a moment, Spyro stopped his offensive to say, _Look, Executor, I have you trapped, and at this point I can kill you in a moment. I don't want to, though – will you _please _just listen to me?_

Urun didn't answer – he was using every faculty still at his disposal to try to push Spyro away. Now, though, this was like running up a cliff. Since Spyro was already inside, Urun's mind was open to him – which not only allowed him to slow Urun's reaction time and attacks, but also to anticipate his every move. Therefore, it only took a tiny portion of the Dragon's mental abilities to keep Urun under him while the rest of him focused on other things, such as telling the Templar to stop this and monitoring the rest of the Khala to make sure he wasn't ambushed.

It was lucky for him that he was doing this last, for very soon he felt a second Protoss mind of similar strength to Urun's coming near. Urun must have sent out a distress call, and this must be Executor Selendis.

Spyro didn't attack her, though he knew he could do both that and maintain his hold on Urun without too much difficulty. Instead he waited to see if she would try negotiation – hoping she would.

She didn't disappoint. _**Terranling, **_she said, and if her mental voice held anger or hatred, Spyro couldn't hear it. _**Why do you pressure Urun thus? What do you desire?**_

_Nothing, _said Spyro, hoping she'd believe him. _I accidentally pushed him back from his position blocking me from the Khala, not knowing my strength, and he attacked me. I don't blame him, but please, I just wanted my new orders! I'm not your enemy!_ By the time he finished, he sounded desperate, despite his efforts to maintain a poker face/mind/thing.

Selendis seemed to consider this for a moment, and then she said, _**Release Urun, and I will try to keep him from attacking you.**_

Spyro did without a word. Urun charged, but Selendis placed her consciousness in between the two of them. _**Enough, **_she said flatly. _**Urun, desist. From this time on, we shall watch him together – but for now, let us trust his word. I have spoken with Zeratul, and he trusts him, though he will not tell me why.**_

_**A pox on Zeratul and his trust, **_said Urun furiously. _**And a pox on you and the Terranling both! Very well, I will cease this, but it shall not be forgotten. And I shall not watch him; that I delegate now to you, Selendis. And may the Xel'Naga help you when he shows to you his true colors. Now, if it is agreeable to you, I have a battle to fight. **_With that, he drew back into his own mind.

_**I must apologize for my compatriot, **_said Selendis, with the psionic equivalent of a roll of her eyes. _**As you can see, failure does not agree with him. Now, as to your orders, I shall guide you out of the Nexus in which you stand. From there, you will find yourself on the field of a skirmish that even now burns. Help our forces in any way you can.**_

_Understood, _said Spyro. _Now, how do I get out of the Nexus?_

_**Turn about, **_ordered the Executor, _**And then turn to your right at the second opportunity. Then turn left when you are first able and follow that path. It will lead you to the doors.**_

_Got it, _Spyro said. _Thank you._

_**You are quite welcome, **_she said. _**I must now block you from the Khala once again, until I have spoken with Hierarch Artanis at the very least. My apologies.**_

_Fine, _said Spyro, a little regretfully. _Thanks again._

_**It was naught, **_she replied, and a piece of her mind encased his, sealing him off from the Mind Link.

He followed her instructions and soon found himself stepping out onto the Aiurian plain once again.

As if in answer to his return, a great mushroom-cloud rose up from a nearby nuke. Spyro preemptively turned his hands to gatling mode and rushed off in that direction. What he saw was a far cry from beautiful.

Zeratul and Shazun were double-teaming a troop of Hydralisks. There was a veritable platoon of Zeatlots in combat with roaches. To the right flank of the Zerg force he could see a squad of Terran Marines and Firebats, with a couple of Spectres –one of which was Tosh, he saw – in combat with a trio of Infestors, armed with Infested Terrans. The Purple Dragon shuddered at the sight of the mutated, monstrous humanoids.

And there was Cynder – in Spyro's eyes, the battlefield's only redeeming aesthetic quality. There was certainly a savage beauty and glory to the way she was calmly annihilating Zerg after Zerg. He watched for a moment as she shoved her right-hand gatling canon into a Zergling's face and blew its brains out while her left hand fired into the belly of a Hydralisk, pushing is back as nothing more than so much perforated flesh.

He shook himself. There was time to admire Cynder's beauty later. _I hope,_ he thought, feeling a burning wave of homesickness crash over him. Blinking back tears of longing, he raised his guns, which began to spin.

His legs started to move, almost of their own accord, and now he was running downhill into the valley. His hands started to let bullets fly. A Zergling fell. Then another joined it – and then a Hydralisk.

Cynder, seeming to notice, turned her armored shape to look at him, for they both knew there was no time for looking at the monitors in the midst of battle. Their eyes met, though they couldn't really see one another through the tinted glass.

"Spyro…"whispered Cynder's voice through the speakers in his cockpit, filled with relief that was almost palpable. "You're okay…"

"I'm fine," he said softly, taking aout a Hydralisk that was trying to sneak up behind her. "Talk later," he murmured. "Kill things now."

"Yes, let's," she said.

And, together, they charged into the Swarm.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: And then the Zerg go boom. Whee! So, how was it? There was a little real action and a LOT of mind action, a little fluff, introduction to both High Executors, and a hell of a lot of foreshadowing.**

**Want another speedy update? Review, then, Please!**


	11. Chapter 11: Oversight

**A/N: I have returned with a chapter. Not my longest break, I suppose. Though some would disagree. Enjoy.**

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><p><span>Chapter XI<span>

**Oversight**

"_We must fight while we still have the strength!"_  
>~Admiral Urun, StarCraft II<p>

* * *

><p>The ends of Spyro's arms reshaped themselves into hands as Spyro let them fall, collapsing as much as the complex contraptions about his limbs would allow. The battle had been long but at last it was over. The Zerg were relentless, and the Protoss and Terran forces had only won at all through the timely intervention of a large Protoss force, led by a High Templar named Kharun. At the end, twenty-five Zealots, fourteen Stalkers, eighteen Marines, seven Firebats, one Spectre, and Kharun himself lay dead.<p>

But they had won the day, and the base was secure. It was dusk now, and Spyro felt more tired than he had since the battle with Malefor himself. Zeratul and the surviving Protoss were even now giving their fallen brethren their funerals, as over a ways away Tosh led the remaining Terran in the operation of loading the dead into the Dropship that had recently come down for that purpose.

"So many dead…" Spyro whispered suddenly, almost unconsciously.

"But we won," said Cynder softly.

"This was only a skirmish, Cyn," he murmured, looking down at her tired face on the monitor. "What did we win here, really? We've still got to fight everything on the entire rest of the planet. How many more will die?" He didn't need to add the next question, so he left it unspoken. _What if one of us is among them?_

She looked away. "Lots of people die in war. That's how it is. Aiur _has_ to be retaken."

"But at what cost?" he persisted. Then he shook himself. "Never mind. You're right. Aiur does have to be taken back. At any-" and then he stopped suddenly, thinking back to his visions on the Hyperion the day before. "At almost any cost," he finished lamely.

"You're sweet," she giggled, smiling at him.

The stood together in companionship on the hill they'd just fought to defend as the sun of Aiur slowly dipped over the horizon.

* * *

><p>Hierarch Artanis glared at the holographic battle map. Things were not looking well on his front. Despite all the intelligence they had gathered in advance, they had underestimated the number of Spore Crawlers on the northern front.<p>

And since Artanis' strategy depended on his air force, this was a serious problem.

_Admiral, _he called through the Khala to Urun. _What do you suggest?_

Urun was silent for a moment, and then he said, _The _Shield of Aiur _must not be compromised. I might suggest a contingent of Void Rays to take out as many Spore Crawlers as possible, and then, just before they break, we will launch our Carriers to break them._

Artanis shook his head instantly. _It is too double-edged, _he replied. _I will not endorse the deaths of so many of our brethren._

_Death is a fact of war, Hierarch, _grunted Urun. _I sometimes forget how young you are._

_Do not presume to suggest that I am unqualified, Admiral, _said the Hierarch, his psionic mind blazing with righteous fury. _I have led our race in many a campaign and won without flaws that you did not even see you own tactics possessed. One of these is the waste of lives rather than time. If you have nothing better to offer in counsel than death, then please say so that I may know better than to ask you in future!_

There was a pause, an instant charged with energy, and then Urun yielded with, _My apologies, my Lord Hierarch. I meant no disrespect. _Then, seemingly unable to restrain himself from one last jibe, he added, _By all means, if you think you can win this war without shedding Protoss blood, please do so. _And before Artanis could rebuke him, he forcibly separated his mind from the Hierarch's.

Artanis clenched his fists, loosened them. Xel'Naga, this was irksome! As the youngest Protoss ever to have a high command – and that of Hierarch, no less – it was natural that he should receive some degradation in the eyes of his people; his maturity and skill were in question. Urun normally had no difficulties with him, though. He wondered if something was wrong with the Admiral – had something happened?

_Yes, _said Executor Selendis' voice over the Khala suddenly. _I am afraid our Admiral is grievously wounded, my Lord._

Artanis started. _What? Why have I not heard of this? Is he in danger?_

_No, for his pain is of a kind not of the body, _said the High Executor, and Artanis thought he detected a hint of amusement behind the thought. _I am afraid, my Hierarch, that the Admiral is suffering from a deadly blow to his pride._

Artanis blinked, amusement and some relief rolling through his mind in ways Selendis was sure to pick up. _Do not frighten me so, _he told her. _The Admiral is a powerful ally and friend._

_Yet it has amused you and improved your mood, has it not? _asked Selendis with a mental chuckle. _And I'm sure you will agree that an unhappy Hierarch means an unhappy army._

_Perhaps, _agreed Artanis grudgingly. _Perhaps. I thank you, Selendis._

_I have done naught but my duty to our species and to you, my Lord, _she said. _But I did not jest when I said Urun has taken a hurt to his pride._

_Other than my rebuke, you mean? _Artanis asked, his attention immediately focused. _What, then?_

_Might I recall to your mind the report Prelate Zeratul made regarding the two mysterious Terrans in the Jorium armor upon the Hyperion? _Selendis said.

_You may, _Artanis said in surprise, wondering where this was going.

_One of them, as you will recall, was somehow able to access the Khala when the Hyperion jumped into our vicinity._

Artanis did indeed remember. It had been a surprise, to say the least. Urun had forced the Terran's mind down almost instantly – a credit to his skill. _What of it?_

The_ Terran says that he was only trying to nudge Urun's mind to receive new orders, _Selendis said. _But he exuded enough force to push Urun away from his position about his mind. And when the Admiral retaliated with anger, he fought him and forced his mind into submission. I was able to convince him to release the Admiral, and he told me he had not meant to use so much force. There was no lie in his mind. I believe him, and Zeratul trusts him, though I have no explanation for his abilities._

Artanis stared into space for a moment, thinking. He could not doubt that she spoke the truth. Now he had to decide what to make of it. _To summarize, _he said slowly, _This mysterious armored Terran has psionic capabilities exceeding that of the Admiral himself?_

_It would appear so, _said Selendis. _And I think it would be in our best interests to open the Khala to him. I have him blocked now, by his consent._

Artanis blinked. That was a surprise. This Terran was dangerous.

But on the other hand, it was better to have a Zergling where you could see it.

_Very well, _Hierarch Artanis said. _Open it to him. And see if you can find Zeratul's motivations for trusting him._

_Yes, Hierarch, _said Selendis, and bade him farewell._ May your blades ever shine._

_One moment! _cried Artanis, a thought striking him. _Is this Terran powerful in combat?_

_I believe so, my Lord, _said Selendis. _What of it?_

_Yes… _muttered the Hierarch. _Yes, open the Khala to him. I must speak with Zeratul personally. May your blades ever shine._

_And yours, _Selendis replied, and withdrew, recognizing the dismissal.

Artanis thought for a moment, and then stretched out his mind. It was always difficult to contact the Nerazim, especially at such long range, but this was important. His brain ached with the strain as he reached out his consciousness, stretching painfully…

It pulled taut and sent a jarring shock of pain through his body just as it hooked onto the Prelate's mind. _Prelate Zeratul, _he said as smoothly as he could, considering the pain he was in. _Have you a moment?_

_I do, my Hierarch, _said Zeratul. _What do you require?_

_The mysterious Terran who can access the Khala, _he began as the agony of reaching faded._ Selendis tells me you trust him. Why might this be?_

There was a moment of silence, and then Zeratul replied, _I am sorry, my Lord, but these secrets are not fully open to me, and even if they were, they are not mine to unfold to any other. Spyro's tale is… interesting. And not a little worrying._

_Spyro? _Artanis asked. _Is that the Terran's name?_

_Indeed, _Zeratul answered. _His compatriot's name is Cynder._

_Good, _said the Hierarch, thinking. _Would you trust them beside you in battle?_

_I have already done so and not regretted it in the slightest, _said the Prelate.

_Then I may have something I require from you… and from them._

* * *

><p>Spyro blinked suddenly as Selendis' cool feminine voice spoke in his mind. <em>I have been given permission by the Hierarch to open the Khala to you. Welcome, Terran. <em>And with that her mind withdrew entirely from his.

At once, he was again assailed by thoughts, words, and emotions from every Khalai in the Protoss armada. He quickly shut himself in for the moment so that he could only hear a trickle of psionic energy coming through the link, vowing to himself that he would more thoroughly peruse it and his newfound capabilities when he wasn't doing something else. Tonight perhaps – no, tonight he'd be asleep like a rock before he could say so much as 'good night' to Cynder. Tomorrow night, then… possibly.

"Spyro," said Cynder concernedly, "Is everything all right?"

"I'm fine, Cyn," he told her. The a slow grin spread over his features as he realized what had just happened. "More than fine, actually! I just got let into the Khala! The Hierarch said I was allowed in!"

"Wait, what?" Cynder blinked. "What are you talking about?"

Oh, Ancestors. He'd totally forgotten to tell her about his adventures in the Khala. He'd even forgotten to tell her how he'd first gotten in on the Hyperion – well, not how; he didn't know that himself – but _that _he'd gotten in on the Hyperion. "Er… I guess I forgot to mention it, what with everything else going on," he muttered, looking away from her. "Well, it's kind of a long story."

"I don't have much right now except time," Cynder said with a grin.

So he told her everything. She nodded, looked surprised, and asked questions – most of which he didn't know the answers to himself – in all the right places.

"So you connected to the Khala on the Hyperion," she summarized, "And you don't know how. Then you accidentally knocked Urun flat in a mind-battle in the Khala, and you don't know how. Then Selendis stepped in, separated you, and somehow got the Hierarch's permission to let you into the Khala. And you don't know why."

"Pretty much, yeah," he said sheepishly. "There might be a little too much stuff I don't know about this."

"Oh, I don't know," said Cynder. "You've done worse."

"What? When?" asked Spyro, slightly affronted.

"Well, when you traveled with me for about four years without ever even realizing I loved you, for starts," Cynder smiled at him.

"Hey," he said, with a joking look of indignation. "Three years spent in a crystal does not count as travel time spent together."

"Meh," said Cynder, rolling her eyes. "If you really wanted to, I'm sure you could have found a way to confess while frozen. You're determined like that. That would have been better than confessing on a metal floor and getting us stuck in MageWalkers just a few minutes later."

Spyro winced and averted his eyes. In all the excitement, he had totally forgotten who it was who had gotten them stuck in this armor. He'd been stupid enough to think that he could trust Tosh, and look where it had landed them.

"Spyro?" Cynder asked, worriedly. "What is it?"

"I… I'm sorry, Cynder," he whispered. His eyes were filled with tears of shame and he swiped at them with a wing impatiently. "It's my fault. It's all my fault."

"Oh, Spyro," she crooned softly. "I was kidding. I don't blame you for this. It's not your fault. How could you know Tosh had something like that in store?"

"I should have been more on guard," he muttered. "I should have been ready for something!"

"Spyro…" she whispered, and then stopped, as though considering. "Spyro, I don't blame you for anything," she said. "And anyway, I'm glad what happened did."

"What?" he said, startled, looking into her eyes. They held his gaze – they were like emeralds, but to him infinitely more beautiful and valuable.

"I'm glad we're here," she said simply. "Aren't you?"

He stared at her for a moment. And then he slowly gave a slight smile. "I suppose I am," he murmured. "I suppose I am."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: It wasn't that long. Really. Unfortunately, the reasons are far from compelling.**

**You see, I discovered Red vs. Blue. That is, undeniably, one of the worst time-sucks ever. I got through Season 9, though, so it can't steal my time until Memorial Day when Season 10 comes out. Therefore, I shall write. If I can.**

**Please review! Thanks!**


	12. Chapter 12: The First Hive

**A/N: Ha! One week! I win! AND - here's the good bit - I've got the next chapter already written! It'll be up in another week!**

**Anyway, enjoy!**

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><p>Chapter XII<p>

**The First Hive**

"'_Forward, the Light Brigade!  
>'Charge for the guns!' he said:<br>Into the valley of death  
>Rode the six hundred."<em>  
>~<em>The Charge of the Light <em>Brigade, Alfred, Lord Tennyson

* * *

><p>At that moment, Zeratul's voice flowed through their minds. <em>Spyro, Cynder, heed me. Lord Hierarch Artanis has personally assigned a mission to us. Meet me at the cliffs to the north. Shazun shall be joining us. Come quickly.<em>

As he withdrew from their minds, Spyro looked down at Cynder. She grinned at him tiredly. "No rest for the weary," she quipped. "Come on, we've got a job to do."

Spyro shook his head slowly, trying to shake off his fatigue. He could go on, he knew. He had before, in the war – he'd fought and gone on for hours on end. But he hadn't enjoyed it by any means, and there was an army now. Couldn't someone else go?

He shook his thoughts off. He had to fulfill his part. With that he followed Cynder off the hill, going towards the northern cliffs where Photon Cannon were still being built. When they arrived, Zeratul was waiting for them.

_Greetings, Spyro, Cynder, _he welcomed them courteously. _I thank you for coming. I know you must be nearly spent. I am myself. But if this mission goes well, the battle shall be half won._

"What is the mission?" Spyro asked.

_I would prefer to await Shazun before we speak on it, _said the old Prelate. _It does not pay to speak openly more than necessary upon the field of battle._

Spyro saw Cynder nod in agreement. "That makes sense," she said. "But can Zerg even hear what you say psionically?"

_I have never considered it before, _the Templar told her. _But after our mission with Tosh, I realize that I do not know all that there is to know about stealth when it comes to the Swarm. I do not wish to take __**any**__ chances._

Spyro understood the unspoken sentiment; _not on Aiur_.

"Well, here comes Shazun now!" said Cynder. And there he was.

_Well met, Lord Prelate! _said the younger Nerazim with a bow. _It is an honor to serve with you once again!_

_The feeling is mutual, brother, _said Zeratul with something like affection in his voice. _Now that you are here, I shall explain our mission. The Hierarch is unable to advance from the north because there is a concentration of Spore Crawlers in his path. Our task is to eliminate those Spore Crawlers by any means necessary, and give the fleet a path through the blockade._

_If I might ask a question? _Shazun asked.

_You may, _Zeratul nodded to him.

_I mean not to question the Hierarch, but why does the fleet not fly over the blockade and come here directly? _The Dark Templar said in confusion.

_To do so would expose them to the fire of a battery of Spore Cannon in the south, _said Zeratul. _This is the best course of action._

_Ah, _said Shazun. _I understand. Very well. Shall we go?_

_Are you both ready? _Zeratul asked the two MageWalkers.

"Yes," they said in unison.

_Then yes, _Zeratul said to Shazun. _We shall. _With his Warp Blade, the Templar gestured at a nearby Warp Prism. It floated over to them.

Suddenly Spyro was surrounded by the prismic blue light of Protoss warp. It lasted only an instant, though, and then he was inside the Warp Prism.

The area was larger on the inside than it had looked on the outside. The walls were of a dark coppery metal inlaid with lines of the blue energy Protoss utilized.

The four of them stood together in the Prism for a minute, and then, just as Spyro was considering breaking the silence they warped again. Now they were on the ground again, on the other side of the massive chasm. Spyro could see Zerg off in the far distance to all sides.

_Now heed me well, _said Zeratul. _Spyro, you alone of us do not have the capability to Cloak. Therefore, you must stay behind until I call. We will carve a path as best we can. I have spoken with Tosh, however, and he says that your armor has far more powerful shielding and armor than Cynder's._

"I thought I noticed that," Spyro agreed.

_Indeed, _said the Prelate. _Therefore, you will be first into any unavoidable battles with detectors. Do these orders displease you?_

"No," said the Dragon.

_Then let us begin, _said Zeratul. _Cloak!_

With a puff of smoke, Zeratul and Shazun vanished, and Cynder too, with a flash, but Spyro could still see them silhouetted on his cockpit – the advanced HUD that he remembered Tosh mentioning when he was explaining their armor to them on the Hyperion.

_Now, Shazun, you are trained in such things, _began Zeratul. _Go to the left and seek a way that we may take. I will search to the right with Cynder and teach her how this is done._

Shazun nodded wordlessly and was gone, off to the left side of their little clearing. _Cynder, follow me, _Zeratul ordered. And off they went, Cynder with a final wave, leaving Spyro alone.

Cynder followed Zeratul as he jogged quickly over the barren earth. As they went the lovely Zerg structures in the distance grew ever closer and clearer. There were tall, glistening spires, luminescent pools, and everything in between. Her eyes grew wide as she stared at them. They were horrible in some ways, and yet she burned with a strange, fierce love for them. For the Zerg.

_Halt! _said Zeratul suddenly, freezing almost midstride. She barely managed to stop by the time she reached him. The sudden stop, coupled with the strange pull of the Swarm's structures, made it difficult to stop at all.

_My training has given me sight which you do not possess, _said the Templar quietly, _And I can see the range of a Spore Crawler. Be careful. Look, do you see the pipe-like structure there?_

He gestured and Cynder followed his motions. There indeed was a thing like the gullet of some monster out of a Dragonet's nightmares, covered in spines and claws. It, too, was beautiful – but Cynder decided not to mention that. "Yes," she said.

_That is a Spore Crawler, _Zeratul told her. _When performing a mission of this kind, it is priority to identify these and not enter their range. They-_

"Can detect Cloaked and Burrowed enemies," Cynder finished. "I know. So our objective is just to find a path through these going through as few of those as possible?"

_Correct, _said Zeratul. _Once we have made our way to the Hierarch, he will provide us with ground reinforcements, which will aid us in taking out the rest of them. Only once that is done can the fleet advance._

"All right," said Cynder slowly, "But what if there's no path between the Spore Crawlers?"

Zeratul's eyes and face tensed and moved, and Cynder realized the Protoss was smiling. _Why, in that case we simply guess on the best course and charge._

"Fun," Cynder deadpanned.

_Indeed, _Zeratul replied. _Now let us search!_

They did, for a short time, but then Shazun's voice reverberated in their minds. _Great One, I have found a path for us to take! Meet me at the place where Spyro waits! _And he withdrew.

She and Zeratul turned and left the Zerg. Shazun was already there when they reached Spyro. As they reached them, Spyro said, "All right. So, are we taking Shazun's route?"

_**We **__are, _Zeratul said. _You, my young friend, are staying put and ready. All the Zerg in the area would converge on you directly if you came with us. We will clear for you a path, and then you shall come with us._

Spyro gestured angrily with his robotic arms. "Isn't there something I can do? I feel useless!"

_No, _said the Prelate flatly. _Stay here. You will be useful soon enough. Come, Cynder. Shazun, lead on._

"Sorry," Cynder said to Spyro over their private channel.

He shrugged, looking morose. "I'm not used to being dead weight," he muttered. Then he chuckled. "It's probably for the best. It'll be a good lesson in humility." He smiled at her, and a shock of love went though her heart as his violet eyes met her emerald ones. "Go on," he told her softly. "And good luck."

She grinned at him for a moment before turning her attention to the world about her. Shazun led them to a point where the gap between the Spore Crawlers seemed greater than usual.

_It will be a tight fit, _he said, _but I think we can make it._

_We can, _agreed Zeratul. _Now we must talk strategy. I might suggest that we aim for the nearby Hatcheries, Hives, and Lairs. That will prevent them from quickly creating more Spore Crawlers._

"That seems wise," Cynder agreed.

_Yes, _said Shazun. _And after that, we will eliminate a few of the Spore Crawlers before moving on to the next area._

_Precisely, _said Zeratul. _Are we in agreement?_

_I obey your orders, Exalted One, _said Shazun respectfully.

_When we are so few, it seems foolish to adhere to such a rigid form, _snorted the old Protoss. _We operate communally when there are not many of us, for in such circumstances alone are we able to do so._

Cynder understood. It was impossible to have an army operate as a team, and it was very difficult to have a team operate as an army. "Well, we're in agreement now," she said. "Let's get moving!" _Let's not keep Spyro waiting any longer than we need to, _she added in her mind. _Poor Spyro._ He liked to be in the thick of things, not off on the sidelines waiting.

_Indeed, _said Zeratul. _Now, follow me exactly – take one step astray and you may be in range of the Spore Crawlers. One more thing; Cynder, this is unlike our last mission in one particularly significant way. In this mission, kill every Zerg you can hit without moving. Do you understand?_

Cynder's eyes narrowed and her hands shifted almost of their own accord to gatling form. "Yes," she hissed, her voice unconsciously becoming more bestial – more Draconic. It startled Shazun, but Zeratul seemed unfazed.

_In that case, come, _he said, and started walking into the midst of the Zerg.

Spyro was not bored anymore. He had been extremely so at first, of course, but not so now. This change had been brought about by nothing less than a Zerg attack.

As Spyro stood there and waited for Zeratul, Shazun, and Cynder to return, he'd been quite startled when an Overlord approached him. It seemed to pass him by though, and he realized it was likely carrying troops over to the base behind him, across the chasm.

He couldn't allow that, and since it had almost certainly seen him anyway, he raised his weapons and fired at the Overlord. It took a laser, a grenade, and five seconds of lead hail to kill it, but it went down, and the Zerg within dropped down into the chasm below.

A moment after this was done, though, he heard a hissing noise behind him. He turned. His eyes widened and he leapt aside – for there was a Hydralisk, its scythes raised. They missed the cockpit by inches and scraped along his hardened shoulder armor. Spyro shoved his gatling-hands into its chest and fired off at absolute point-blank range. It fell back to the ground and was dead before it hit, an array of gaping holes in its chest.

And there, behind it, he saw a force of Zerg – Roaches, Banelings, and a single Infestor. The Infestor instantly launched off a few egg-like capsules, which Spyro knew contained the Infested corpses of unfortunate Terran Marines. Spyro hit one of them with a grenade as he fired on the now-charging Banelings with his hand-guns. One of them exploded, causing a chain reaction that took out a good few of them. And now the Roaches were spraying him with acid. He charged at them, keeping his gatling guns trained on the Banelings, and jumped on one of them. There was a sickening crunch as its exoskeleton shattered under the weight of his multi-ton suit of armor.

He turned his head and hit another with a laser and followed up with a grenade. That one died. A few more Banelings fell to a domino explosion. Then the Infested Terrans hatched from their eggs and fired on him. He spun, crescent-kicking a Roach as he did so, fired on a Baneling, which exploded, and ran towards the Infested. When he reached them, he leapt and landed in a barrel roll, crushing the mutated Terrans under his bulk.

Unfortunately, he came up again to an acid-filled explosion as the Banelings reached him. The burning acid melted a couple wires, causing white-hot pain to shoot through him and making his right arm and left leg freeze up. He gritted his teeth against the agony and opened fire on the Infestor with his left hand and a grenade. It took a moment – a moment he could scarcely spare – but it died. Now there were just Roaches.

He lasered one and fired at it with his gatlings simultaneously. It died after a moment. He charged and crushed another, kicking a third in the head. Slowly he cut down on their numbers, and one by one they died. His arm and leg were working again before it was over, but eventually he stood over all the organic slime and crushed bone that remained of his enemies, victorious. Then he looked up.

His shoulders sagged. "Ancestors…" he muttered.

There, advancing towards him, was a veritable army of Zerg.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Is Spyro in trouble? Will he survive? Agh, the suspense is killing you! Just a week, guys! It'll be up next week! Ha! Yes! Regularity!**

**Anyway, reviews make us all happy. Create them! Thanks!**


	13. Chapter 13: Hive Mind

**A/N: I am SO SORRY! I haven't got any excuse beyond 'I got Skyrim'. Therefore, I can't promise more lightning updates. But I WILL TRY. That much I can promise. A shouted out apology to Spyrofan for the lateness. Please forgive me!**

* * *

><p><span>Chapter XIII<span>

**Hive Mind**

"_For the Swarm!"_  
>~Pretty much any Zerg that has ever spoken in English<p>

* * *

><p>Cynder shoved her way past a Hydralisk, pushing it with her shoulder, and simultaneously perforated the skull of a nearby Zergling. Then she spun, guns blazing, and moved down the Hydralisk along with a Baneling behind it. In front of her, Zeratul was whirling around as he moved inexorably forward, making sashimi out of the Zerg flesh all around her. To her rear, Shazun was doing much the same, only with a good deal more ferocity and considerably less skill.<p>

The Zerg couldn't see them, but they could, unfortunately, somewhat guess where they were. This was apparent by the fact that Cynder's shields were down and she had a slight scratch in the plating on her MageWalker's chest from a Hydralisk's scythe, Shazun's were almost offline, and even Zeratul's had taken some damage. The only choice was to advance – keep moving so it was harder for the Zerg to find them.

So they did – for quite a while. Cynder dodged a swipe from a Hydralisk, and then ducked under a leaping Zergling, puncturing its belly with lead hail as it passed over her head. As she looked up she saw a Roach headed straing for her. Before she could fire on it, though, Zeratul's blade arced through both the air and its body, slicing a massive incision into its flank and making it fall, hissing in agony. Cynder ended its life with a skull that looked like Swiss cheese. Then she spun and clubbed a Zergling into Shazun, who hit it with his Psiblade like a baseball and sliced its head off cleanly.

Suddenly Zeratul swore. _There is no easy path forward, _he said. _I can see a Hive in the distance, but we must go through a Spore Crawler's area to reach it. I suggest that I entrap it in a Void Prison. We will then charge with all speed to destroy it. From there we will go on to the Hive._

"Do it!" screamed Cynder, thankful that the channel she was on was private for just herself and her team. This way she needn't go through giving the Zerg another indicator of her position.

In front of her in the line (although right then he was actually beside her) she saw Zeratul rush forward. Suddenly the Zerg seemed to see him, and they all concentrated their fire directly on him. The Protoss warrior ducked and rolled, always moving forward, and then with a wave of his hand the Spore Crawler before him was suddenly encased in blue light.

_Go! _he cried. _Now! Destroy the Spore Crawler!_

Cynder opened with a laser as she ran; now disregarding all the other Zerg. As it fired in a beam of light, she raised her hands and opened fire. Even as the first few bullets hit the Crawler, both Zeratul and Shazun reached it – Zeratul on foot, Shazun via a Blink; Cynder noticed that Blinking lowered the younger Templar's Cloak – he likely wasn't skilled enough in Psionics to perform both techniques at once.

Shazun stabbed at it with both of his blades even as Zeratul sliced at it. With a hideous cry and a gurgling splatter it died and fragmented, leaving bits of organic material all over the ground. _To the Hive! _Zeratul called. _Make haste!_

The three of them ran past countless Zerg to the massive structure that was the core of any Zerg base. Cynder hurled three grenades upward so that they'd explode just at the apex of the conical, hulking mass. They did and the organic surface rippled and shuddered. She began to openly fire on the surface with bullets and simultaneously lasered it. At the same time, Zeratul and Shazun came forward and began to hack at the living building.

It, however, seemed scarcely affected by the havoc they were wreaking on its surface. And Cynder knew that if they didn't finish this quickly, they'd be sitting ducks for the first Overseer that happened along. But what could she do?

She racked her brain, stretching out her mind in all directions. Suddenly, she felt something strange, like a barrier in the way of her thoughts. Involuntarily, she pushed on it. It gave, and at that instant a strange pain suffused her. It was agonizing, but somehow separated from her, as if it wasn't a part of her that was being hurt. Even as that registered in her mind, every Zerg in sight stopped moving as one.

She blinked and compulsively stopped firing. Clenching her teeth against the odd agony, she decided to explore that first. She searched her mind again, trying to find the source of the signals that were sending pain to her brain.

The conclusion came, but it seemed impossible. Still, she somehow knew it to be correct, and that knowledge sent a frightening thrill through every fiber of her being.

"Stop!" she cried to Zeratul and Shazun. "Stop hitting it!"

She didn't expect them to listen, but it was a testament to the legendary training of the Protoss and a mark of their trust that they did. Both spun to look at her.

_What is it? _Zeratul asked. _Why would you have us stop destroying this Hive?_

Shazun's brow suddenly creased in confusion. _And why, _he asked slowly, _have all the Zerg stopped attacking us?_

Cynder took a deep breath and gestured with her hand-gun, testing her theory. A shock of glorious glee jolted her as a Hydrlisk, complying to her mental command, slithered over and stood sentinel beside her, its mandibles clicking.

Both Protoss' eyes widened at this, and even more so when she transformed her hand into fingers and a palm once more and hesitantly stroked the majestic monster on the top of its head. "I don't know how it happened," she whispered, "And I swear I haven't changed - but, somehow… I _am _that Hive."

* * *

><p>Spyro was surprised to say the least when, suddenly, the advancing Zerg just stopped. The closest Zergling was only a few paces away by that time. For almost two full minutes they just stood there, and during that time he was frozen in a combat stance, not daring to move for fear it would galvanize them into action. Then, suddenly, Cynder's voice spoke through the speakers in his cockpit.<p>

"Spyro, why didn't you tell me you were under attack?" she cried, sounding almost panicked. "Are you all right?

"I'm fine," he whispered, not daring to speak loudly since his armor had its speakers active. He turned them off as he spoke. "You?"

"I'm fine," she told him, relief plain in her voice. "Spyro, there's something I need to explain, and a few things I need explanations in. The Zerg that were going to attack you will lead you to me. Follow them." Then, clearly anticipating the questions on his tongue, she added, "Don't ask right now; I'll explain when you get here."

As one, the Zerg turned and made their way away from him. After the barest instant's hesitation, he followed them. It had occurred to him that Cynder might not be herself – might be corrupted by the Zerg as she had been by Malefor and might even now be luring him into a trap. _But,_ he thought to himself, _If I don't trust Cynder, who will I trust?_

So he followed the Zerg across the plain, over a small hill, and finally into the midst of what looked like a quieted battlefield. There was a pathway that seemed to be made of the remains of Zerg leading to a massive, conical structure surrounded by spines, which must have been a hive. And there, right before it, stood Cynder, Zeratul, Shazun, and a Hydralisk.

The Zerg Spyro had been following dispersed and went their various ways as Spyro ran over to the congregation. Cynder turned the bulk of her MageWalker towards him as he approached. "Good to see you, Spyro," she said through the vehicle's speakers. "I think I owe you an explanation."

_I think you owe myself and the Prelate Zeratul an explanation too! _said Shazun fiercely. _What madness is this? Friendly Zerg, friendly Hives, enemies we are not permitted to kill…_

_Peace, Shazun, _said Zeratul quietly. _I think I feel a meaning behind all of this – a method to the madness Tosh has wrought. But please, Cynder, tell us what has happened._ Spyro nodded down at her face on the monitor to show his agreement.

"Well," she began, "I don't really know. All I know is while we were attacking the Hive, I thought 'We have to finish this quicker or they'll send an Overseer and kill us all!' So I tried to figure out a way to do that, and while I was searching my mind, I met some kind of resistance. I pushed on it and… well, it's like suddenly the Hive was a part of me, and so were all the Zerg under its control. I _felt _its pain with you two hacking at it, and I could feel everything the Zerg were doing. It'll take a little practice, but I think I could control all of these Zerg at once if I needed to."

_You are a Cerebrate! _Shazun cried, eyes flaring. _Lord Prelate-_

_**Peace,**__ Shazun! _Zeratul intoned, and his eyes flared too, and the power there dwarfed the glow of Shazun's orbs. _You are maddened by hatred! Calm yourself! This is no Zerg; this is Cynder, alive and unchanged. She bears this power and has borne it before, only now discovering it! Did you despise her before? No. Then do not so now. _To Cynder he said, _Do you feel any changes inside your own mind?_

"Not unless you count the hundred-odd Zerg that're living in it now.," she said sarcastically.

_I do not, for they are not a part of you, _said Zeratul. _It is imperative that both you and Shazun understand this distinction. The Zerg are not a part of you in either mind or body, if my guesses are correct. They are to you what the Protoss under a Khalai's command through the Khala are to him. They are yours, but you __**are not theirs**__. Remember that._

"I'd be willing to bet," said Spyro suddenly and frankly, "On two things. First, I'd bet Tosh knew about this. And second, I'd bet that Cynder, your way with the Zerg has something to do with how I can access the Khala."

_I do not doubt either of your conclusions, Spyro, _said Zeratul. _This is… interesting. And not a little disturbing. Cynder, how far does your influence spread?_

"Not far," said Cynder. "There's another Hive north of us. If the mental maps stored in the Hive's brain cells are trustworthy, there are actually two more Hives between us and Artanis' fleet."

_I think you can guess my next query, _Zeratul prompted.

"I can," Cynder said, and there was a strange, slightly feral grin on her face on Spyro's monitor. "You're going to ask if I can take control of two more Hives. I'm not sure. I'm untested. Secondary Hives may be harder. There are any number of things that could go wrong.

"But I'm going with a total yes on this one."

_In that case, _said Zeratul, and there was a smile in his voice, _Our chances have suddenly gone from fair to a near certainty. Come, Shazun! Come, Spyro! Come, O Cynder, who bears the Zerg like a weapon against the Swarm! Onward to the Hierarch! Onward to glory! For Aiur!_

"_For Aiur!"_ The three others echoed. And as Zeratul turned, they followed him across the plain among the Zerg that were suddenly their allies.

Eventually they reached a point where there was a gap in the Zerg across their path. "Stop," said Cynder. They did. "This is where my Hive ends and the next begins. We need a plan."

"Why not attack them frontally with me and the Zerg while you three sneak in and take the Hive like last time?" Spyro suggested.

"I think we'll try that," said Cynder. "But Spyro, listen. I won't be able to make good tactical decisions while I'm in the middle of a battle on my end. I'll just have the Zerg rush them. There'll be heavy losses on our side. If the line breaks, I don't want you to die. Don't try to fight them alone."

Spyro didn't answer.

"Please, Spyro!" Cynder cried. "It doesn't matter if they get through! They can't take the Hive back – not without an actual Cerebrate or Queen – I'm sure of that! It doesn't matter how many Zerg of ours they kill! They're in the way – we were going to kill them anyway! Don't sacrifice yourself for them!"

_When she puts it that way… _"Fine," said Spyro. "But do me a favor, Cynder. Come back alive yourself."

Cynder smirked at him. "Don't worry, love," she said, and his heart fluttered slightly. "It'll take more than an army of Zerg to take me down when you're waiting."

_Enough, _said Shazun, rolling his eyes – an oddly Terran thing for a Protoss to do, though admittedly Dragons did it too; this suddenly gave Spyro an odd feeling. _You can declare undying love for one another later. Let us begin._

"Yes," said Cynder. "Let's."

And as the three of them vanished in a cloak and around him the Zerg charged, Spyro stood for a moment, pondering. He, a Dragon, could access the Khala. Cynder, another Dragon, could control the Swarm. Terrans rolled their eyes – and so did Dragons. They spoke the same language as the most common one currently in Koprulu, which he now realized he didn't even know the name of.

What _were _they? What were these odd similarities? How could it be a coincidence? What was the mysterious connection between his world and this ancient one?

…And why, of all things, had the adjective 'ancient' sprung to his mind?

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><p><strong>AN: I hope the chapter was worth my failure. Review, please!**


	14. Chapter 14: Assignment

**It's been a while. I'm not going to say any more now – too tired. I'll try to come back from here on, but Walking Backwards on a Tightrope is really commanding my attention. Sorry. I hope you enjoy this (exceedingly late) update.**

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><p><span>Chapter XIV<span>

**Assignment**

"_All men can see these tactics whereby I conquer, but what none can see is the strategy out of which victory is evolved."_  
>~Sun Tzu<p>

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><p>Cynder felt the odd sensation of being spread over many bodies as the MageWalker crept as silently as the massive suit of steel could. She was still primarily herself, but she could also feel the fifty Zerg bodies by Spyro charging headlong at the enemy. She could see through their eyes, smell through their nostrils, feel the blood and fury flowing through their veins.<p>

And it came perfectly naturally, as though she was born for it. That was the most frightening part.

Yet… it was exhilarating, too; the joy came to her with the same natural speed. It was as though it was a biological part of her offering her exultation in exchange for commanding the Zerg.

There were more Zerg here than she'd thought, she observed suddenly, as she stole among the marauding other hive's denizens. She told as much to her two Protoss companions.

_Then he must make haste, or Spyro may be overrun, _said Zeratul gimly.

"It shouldn't be too difficult," Cynder shrugged. "Spine Crawlers usually aren't built outside of the real perimeter – and that we've already passed in the first hive. There are Spore Crawlers, but they can't hit us; and no units here are a real thre—"

_Stop! _called Zeratul, cutting her off. She reacted instantly, halting all forward motion.

_Spore Crawler,_ Shazun grunted. _We must pass – the Hive is just beyond._

_We will take it, _Zeratul said. _Cynder, take the Hive as we charge. We will buy you time._

With that, he sealed the Spore Crawler in a void prison and the two of them charged before Cynder could say a word.

They had, unfortunately, failed to realize, as Cynder had, that no self-respecting hive isolated its Spore Crawlers. There was another to the east.

And, since the Swarm was expecting Zeratul and his Void Prison, that one had the first within its detection range.

In the instant when the two Nerazim first struck at the turret, they became instantly under attack from all sides, courtesy of the many Zerg stationed around them.

_For the love of… _Cynder thought furiously through clenched teeth. She wished she could complete the saying; unfortunately, the Dragon religion had not been a major part of her education under Malefor and Gaul. Not that there was much.

She wanted to help the two Protoss Templar as they fought. She wanted to take out the Zerg attacking them. But she knew that she could be of far more use in other ways.

They were, after all, giving her time. It'd be a shame not to use it.

While the spore crawler was deactivated, she charged past it, along the west side, where she guessed instinctively that there would not be another watching. She was correct – she made it to the Hive without incident.

Now came the difficult part; replicating the way she had taken the other Hive on this one. She had acted on impulse the previous time, but she didn't have that luxury now. She would have to work it out consciously.

She considered how it had gone the first time. She's been searching through her mind, looking this way and that for a solution… no, that wasn't it. She'd been reaching out, grasping out with her mind for an answer.

And that _was_ the answer, she realized. She hadn't been reaching into her mind, she'd been reaching out with it. Out to the Hive.

She closed her eyes, looking instead with her mind. And there it was – the same barrier of resistance, the same opposing force. It was, she now saw, the will of the Hive striving against her. But it wasn't strong – if it were, the Zerg would have rebelled against their Cerebrate masters long ago. No, it was meant to be subjugated.

And subjugate it she did. She stretched her mind around it like water parting around a rock, enclosing it, and then she _squeezed_. In an instant, the Zerg mind crumbled to her power and all fighting noises around her stopped.

She smirked. It had been even easier this time – she was learning. And she was nowhere near her limit yet. Who could say what heights she could grasp? In her mind's eye, she saw an image of herself at the head of the Swarm, leading them on into battle, destroying and assimilating all enemies into the gene pool.

She shook herself. It was far too early to be harboring ambitions like that. Two hives were nothing – not when they were compared to the whole planets – _star systems_, even – that Kerrigan even now held sway over.

It was only when she was halfway back to Zeratul and Shazun that she realized that not once had she considered in her ambitious thoughts the prospects of returning home, to the Dragon Realms and Warfang. And for a moment she wondered if she really did want to go home. Could she sacrifice all that was here in Koprulu for that?

And then she chuckled at her own foolishness. She was no Zerg Cerebrate. She was only a Black Dragoness who somehow had a power that allowed her to command the Zerg. Nothing more. This was not her home. Whether she liked it or not, Warfang was waiting.

_We thank you, Cynder, _said Shazun as she approached. _We might have met with less success without your timely action._

"Just doing my best," Cynder replied easily. "Now come on – let's go pick up Spyro."

* * *

><p>Artanis sat deep in thought on his command podium on the <em>Shield of Aiur<em>. The battle was barely begun and already the Zerg were surprising him.

He'd been preparing his plans for assault when suddenly the Zerg had seemed to retreat, leaving only a part of their force present. He had not attacked immediately for fear of a trap, and soon, that part had stopped all movement.

Then suddenly, all the Zerg had returned, but they did not look like they were prepared for a battle with their ancient enemies – instead they were milling about in very loose formation, seemingly waiting for something. And it made Artanis nervous.

A Khalai Templar entered his chamber and he sighed. _Yes, yes, _he said in response to his subordinate's questioning aura. _It is time we attacked. I am worried, however._

_It seems that their Cerebrate has been destroyed or disabled, Hierarch, _said the Templar. _We should seize the chance._

_Perhaps you are right,_ Artanis said. Then, more firmly, _Yes, you are. Thank you. All troops! _Now he was projecting his thoughts through the local Khala so his force would hear him. _Charge and fire on my mark!_

His four-digit fist clenched as he looked out at the creep carpet. But just as he was about to give the order to fire, he heard a voice he knew well. _Hierarch! Hold your fire!_

_Zeratul! _cried Artanis in surprise. _It is good to hear from you, old friend. But what occasion is this? Are you captured?_

_No, _Zeratul said quickly. _Rather, these Zerg before you are. Pay them no heed – come towards our forward camp._

Artanis frowned. _Pay them no heed? Are you mad, Prelate? These are Zerg – they will destroy us the instant we turn our backs!_

_These will not,_ Zeratul insisted. _They are ours. You recall that creature that was not quite Terran that bested Urun in mental combat?_

Artanis nodded mentally. _Urun will not forget it. What of him?_

_He came alongside another,_ Zeratul quickly explained. _And as he has strength to match ours, so hers matches the Zerg – she has taken these three Hives and commands them now herself._

Artanis' eyes widened. _This is worrisome,_ he said. _But you trust her?_

_Absolutely,_ said the Nerazim, and there was honesty in the thought.

_Very well,_ said Artanis. _We will make for Raynor's position. Thank you, Prelate._

_My honor, Hierarch,_ said Zeratul.

* * *

><p>"So let me get this straight," said Raynor quietly. He, Artanis, Horner, Zeratul, Spyro, and Cynder all stood together in a large room in the Terrans' Command Center around a three-dimensional tactical map of Aiur's terrain. Spyro and Cynder had not originally been invited to this meeting of the commanders, but the odd situation made their presence a clear necessity.<p>

"Cynder, you have control over three full hives of Zerg forces," Raynor said quietly.

"Yes," the Dragoness said impatiently. They'd been through this.

"And Spyro, you took down the Protoss Admiral Urun in mental combat without even breaking a sweat," the commander continued, ignoring the black MageWalker's displeasure.

"Yes," said Spyro, not openly showing his own annoyance at the slowness both the Terrans and Protoss were showing at grasping these simple facts.

"And they're definitely not Terran?" the grizzled rebel leader asked Zeratul.

Zeratul shook his head. _Their secrets are not for me to divulge,_ he said. _But you might ask any Protoss with reasonable skill the same and they could tell you that much at least._

"And you won't tell the rest of us what you are," Raynor said.

"Nope," Cynder said with false cheer, the edge of annoyance in her voice apparent. Spyro rolled his eyes at her in the privacy of his cockpit.

"But you trust them," Raynor said to Zeratul.

_Yes,_ said the Prelate simply.

Raynor considered for a moment. "Fine, we'll roll with it," he decided. "Any problems and I put the two of you down, Zerg or no Zerg."

"Finally!" Cynder cried.

Spyro chuckled lightly. Horner did too. "If we're past that," said the Hyperion's captain, "then let's move on. Cynder's fixed our Zerg problem in the near north. This field is ours. But we've got a whole damn planet to take – this battle's far from over."

"Right," said Raynor. "Our specialist team has worked so far, though; what say we use it again?"

_Cynder is needed to lead her Zerg forces,_ Artanis said. _Other than that, It seems prudent._

Spyro looked at Cynder on his monitor. She smiled wryly at him. "We can't stay together through this whole battle, Spyro," she said softly. "And I do need to lead the Zerg."

But Horner had something more to say. "Spyro hasn't got a cloak," he said. "He's a tank-type commando, not a stealth-type. Sending him with Zeratul, Tosh and Shazun again worked once, but he'll be more useful in other ways."

_What do you suggest?_ Zeratul asked.

"Put him on a commando squad," said Horner. "A kill team. A high-profile one that can take a lot of hits. Send them in…" he looked down at the map for a moment, "there." He pointed at a thin land bridge over one of Aiur's thinner seas. "If we keep our offensive up, we'll reach that shore tomorrow, at noon, but after we arrive, we'll need to turn aside and retake the Aluriin province. That land bridge could be defended by a bunker for a while, but only the best troops could hold it long if the Zerg press."

_So we send in commandos,_ said Zeratul quietly.

"Right," said Horner. "We can set up missile turrets along the beaches to prevent fliers from slipping by, but we need a commando squad with a bunker to give us the best long-term anti-ground solution."

"And Spyro's the best for the job," said Raynor. "How's this sound to you, Spyro?"

Spyro shrugged, and the MageWalker reflected it. "It's the best idea we've got. I'll do it."

_Good,_ said Artanis. _I'll leave the assignment to you, Commander._

"Fine," said Jim. "Spyro, you go get some rest. Cynder, hold on for a little longer – we need to work out your Zerg's positions in our tactics."

"Er…" Spyro muttered, "I think I'll stay, if that's all right."

Raynor looked at him appraisingly for a moment, then nodded. "Fine," he said. "You'd hear everything from Cynder anyway."

"Yep," said Cynder cheerfully. "So, what should I do?"

_First, what are your limitations?_ Artanis asked. _Is there anything you don't feel comfortable doing that we should know about?_

"Well, I'd rather keep my troops together for now," Cynder replied. "I don't think I'll be able to control them all perfectly, so small squads just aren't an option yet."

Artanis nodded. _Fine. Then you can have your own front. Can you take a few more Hives for yourself?_

"I… think so," Cynder decided.

"Good," Raynor said. "Then how about she takes this province here?" He pointed. "Mar'daan. Fairly small, relatively low Zerg presence… it's a perfect opportunity to practice commanding your Zerg with the lowest stakes we can get you on the battlefield."

"Fine," Cynder agreed. "Should I order my Zerg to move our while I sleep?"

_If you can, yes,_ said Zeratul. _We will watch over your hives here. Keep your Drones harvesting. Positionyour Zerg along this ridge overnight, and claim command in the morning. After that…_

"After that, it's your skirmish," said Raynor quietly. "Good luck, Cynder. Now get some sleep, both of you – you've earned it."

They thanked the generals and were off to find some corner to catch a wink in. They barely stayed awake long enough to bid one another good night; it had, after all, been a very long day.

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><p><strong>AN: There. The next part of the battle starts next time. I hope some of you are still reading. If not, then none of you will read my apology. But I stand by my old promise – I WILL FINISH every story I begin. That much I swear. I hope you liked this, and please review – it really encourages me to write more.**


	15. Chapter 15: On Site

**A/N: There. Just finished it. I hope I can keep this up. Not going to bother with a longer note. Hope you enjoy.**

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><p><span>Chapter XV<span>

**On Site**

"_One indomitable heart, Brothers All."_  
>~Mandalorian chant, '<em>Vode An<em>' – Star Wars: Republic Commando

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><p>"We're here," said the Medivac pilot, shaking Spyro to full wakefulness from his tired stupor. He'd only woken up about half an hour ago to be told that he had been assigned to a command squad and would be headed out on the first Medivac to that area of the battle.<p>

Cynder had still been asleep and he hadn't woken her. She still was. He looked down at her face on his monitor for amoment as he guided his MageWalked out onto Aiur's earth again.

All about his was a stereotypical Terran field camp. To his right there were most of the major structures – a Planetary Fortress, a barracks, a factory, and a sensor tower. On the other three sides was the perimeter of the camp, fortified by bunkers and missile turrets. Spyro himself stood in a small field, devoid of structures, though not of men.

There were marines everywhere, all around him. Some were marching back to the base from the bunkers, but most were moving towards the perimeter. But there were four Terrans who caught his eye as unusual, for one simple reason: They alone were standing still.

Or sitting still, rather. They were all seated together in a close group on the ground, talking quietly. There were a few weapons on the ground about them, as well as other things. They were also odd because, unlike all the other Terrans on the field, they were not clad in Marines' CMC Powered Combat Suits. Instead, they wore what seemed to be modified Ghost hostile environment outfits, altered to give them more protection in a traditional firefight with more armor and a basic shield generator like Spyro's own, though, because of their smaller hardware, it was less powerful.

He had a feeling these were the people he was here to see.

"Is this the 6th Versatile Special Operations unit?" he asked them as he walked up to them.

They all looked at him, and he saw that their helmets were of design similar to those of Ghosts – with the disconcerting three lenses, which Spyro knew allowed for a more integrated HUD. One of them grasped the assault rifle – an advanced version of the basic C-14 (from this moment on, Spyro would always consider it a C-15) and stood up, using it as a crutch as he rose.

He removed his helmet and Spyro saw a chiseled, stern face with dark hair and electric blue eyes. The man was tall, though he looked up at Spyro in his armor. His skin was very pale – a side effect of being a commando who spent more time in sealed armor than out of it.

"You the new Heavy?" he asked in a quiet but commanding voice.

"I suppose," Spyro said, deciding that yes, he was certainly more heavily-equipped than these Terrans. "My name's Spyro."

"No last name?" the man asked shortly.

"None that I know of," Spyro answered.

The man studied him for a moment, looking up and down the MageWalker armor, then sighed. "Fine, damn it," he muttered. "Guess you've got a story too. Name's Willards. Sergeant Jake Willards, 6th V-Specs. Leader of the squad and main assault trooper."

He nodded to the man seated beside him, who stood, picking up his C-10 sniper rifle. He too removed his helmet, revealing a slightly kinder-looking expression. "Corporal Andrew Baine – Jake's XO, second, whatever you want to call it," he said cheerily, but Spyro saw an odd, haunted look in his eyes. They were green, those eyes, and the hair above them was red. The man's skin was similarly pale, and dusted with freckles.

"I'm the team's sniper," he continued. "But I've never been through Ghost or Spectre training because I'm not a Psionic."

"This," he gestured to the man on his immediate right, "is Sarah Chambers, our tech expert," and Spyro suddenly realized that 'he' was a woman. "She's the only Psionic here, as well. Carries all of the stuff we use, besides the ones that blow up."

"That's Orion's job," he added, pointing at the last man. "Orion Vargrind, team's resident master of explosives. Uses a goddamn rocket launcher, which is original, I'll give it that."

"Shut up, Andy," said Vargrind in a quiet, raspy voice. "I'd like to see you get fifteen kills in one hit with that bloody peashooter of yours."

"I'm hurt," said Baine with a grin, clutching at his armored chest. "Right here. In the heart. How can you call my gun a peashooter?"

"Because it shoots things that are as small as peas," interrupted Chambers tersely, standing and glaring at Baine. "Enough, Andy, for God's sake."

Baine looked at her for a moment, and then nodded. "Fine," he said quietly, turning back to Spyro. And then he finished the introduction. "And our heavy trooper – our tank, our shield, our biggest gun – is you," he said, and Spyro saw a flicker in his eye of something like pain.

* * *

><p>Cynder looked over those Zerg she had brought from her Hives on the other end of the battle. While she was here at Mar'daan her three hives back at the base camp were just placidly growing, with small patrols of Zerglings protecting them from any enemy infiltration… or any Terran or Protoss foolish enough to attack her.<p>

But here she had herself and the greater part of her military. Unfortunately, she had no way to produce more unless she took a Hatchery, Lair, or Hive.

She had been dropped off by Hercules transport in a small plateau, with a single sloping land bridge connecting it outward, where the Zerg seldom patrolled. Here she had a small – very small – army, ready to attack the greater Swarm with all its tenacity here in Mar'daan.

But she wasn't stupid. The little force she had wouldn't have a chance against even the relatively small contingency the Swarm maintained here. She needed a base, a defensible position, and a lot more troops.

She took stack of her troops. _Let's see, _she thought. _Ten Hydralisks, thirty Zerglings, fifteen Roaches. Not a force for a real war._

So what should she do? The layout of the area – what little she knew of it – placed well-defended Hives on the whole of her right side. Much of the same was on the left.

But on her extreme left, barely over two kilometers off, there was a single, almost empty Hatchery. It was the most recently-constructed of the Zerg bases, and it was extremely underdefended.

The trouble was, it was far too close to an extremely powerful Hive. If she took the Hatchery, her army would be slaughtered defending it within two hours.

Suddenly she realized that she'd missed something in her assessment of her forces. _We have one more soldier,_ she realized as a grin began to worm its way onto her face. _Me._

And the beginnings of a plan grew in her mind.

* * *

><p>Spyro plodded along after the other commandos in silence as they made their solitary way across the wastes. The squad was moving alongside a major armed force, but was separate from it – to avoid being hampered by the bulky Marines and their equally unwieldy tactics.<p>

They'd started moving at approximately eight that morning, making their way westward to the land bridge that the five of them were to hold. They'd all been totally silent as they moved. Spyro spoke occasionally with Cynder, but she was very busy with her force, so he kept to himself for the most part.

Suddenly Baine stopped short. He whipped out his rifle, aimed to the south at something Spyro couldn't see, and fired off a round.

All of the commandos turned to him in silence. He shrugged. "Scout – a Drone. Never knew what hit it."

"Good; keep it that way," said the Sergeant. "We're trying to lay low, remember?"

"'Course, Sarge!" said the sniper. "It was a Drone – I know what I can one-shot and what I can't."

"Just be careful," said Willards.

"I will," nodded Baine.

"Good," said the Sergeant. "Move on."

They did.

It took until about one o'clock in the afternoon – Aiur time, as measured by the base-twelve Terran time system – before they finally reached their target – the twin seas of Ar'muun and Ar'thaan. They were split only by a thin bridge of land, the middle of which was actually submerged at the highest tides, which happened relatively rarely, only about three times a day.

"You're late," was the greeting they received from the cigarette-smoking Major in charge of the force present already. The man looked ready to choke the Sergeant to death with his bare hands – or at least his CMC-clad hands, but Spyro had a feeling he usually looked like that. "We expected you half an hour ago."

"Next time you have to make twenty kilometers as fast as possible, let me know your time, Major," growled the Sergeant. "Then you can be a son-of-a-bitch about it. Not before, thank you very much. We're ready to hold the bridge."

"Good," muttered the Major, spitting out his cigarette. "We've built you lot a bunker. Make good use of it. Don't worry about Mutalisks or Corruptors – save your ammo for Overlords, Overseers, Brood Lords, and, of course ground units. Those are your orders."

"I know, Major," said the Sergeant sardonically after the officer had finished. "Though of course your pointless exercising of you rank is quite acceptable." The Major glared in the nearest thing a Terran could come to demonic wrath. "Can my squad to its job now? Unless, of course, you want to order me around with more orders I already have?"

"Shut the hell up, you son of a…" hissed the Major.

"I've already used that insult in this conversation, Major," admonished the Sergeant, and Spyro had a feeling that under the helmet, the man was smiling; an expression that the Dragon could not even imagine on his face. "Don't get repetitive, please."

The Major ground his teeth. "Get to your job, commando, and let me do mine," he forced out mutinously. "Now get out of my sight before one of us dies and the other gets court-martialed."

"Of course," said the Sergeant gracefully, leading the squad on towards the Bunker at the start of the bridge.

As soon as they were out of the Major's earshot, Chambers said quietly, "Well, it's good to see you're back to your old self, Boss," she chuckled softly. "I was starting to worry. None of us wanted to lose you, too."

Spyro frowned, but he seemed out of his depth in this – this group had their own history, and until they told him about it, he wouldn't pry.

Willards shook his head. "Don't worry about me; I'll be fine."

"As we all just saw clearly from that display of blatant disrespect for a superior officer," said Baine happily. "Good God, I've missed watching Marine officers get wound up. They have literally no idea what they're doing. They mess with you, and you just… wham!" the punched his fist into his open palm. "Word-smacked. How do you do it without getting court-martialed?"

"Make them want to kill you more than they want to report you," said the Sergeant. "Once you've managed that, then they're stuck just telling you to go away. And anyway, I'd like to see any of us getting court-martialed over the word of a Marine-Corps Major."

"True," said Vargrind, who had been silent up to then. "They're not half as valuable, after all."

Spyro said nothing. It was not his group and not his conversation. These men – and the one woman, too – had been ill-at-ease whn he'd been speaking with them at the base in the morning. He didn't want to break whatever calm they'd established since.

But he did wonder about them. Who were they, really? They seemed different from other Terrans he'd encountered – more solitary, and yet more connected. They did not associate with the rest of the army, or with their superiors, yet among themselves they were as thick as thieves or thicker. He wondered why.

He would soon learn the reason – they were so close because they were never close to others. And they were never close to others because others had a habit of dying. Such was the fate of a commando; of any elite. They were alone, or they were broken by loss.

And over the next few years of his very long life, Spyro would come to learn just how lonely the top was, just as these commandos had.

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><p><strong>AN: No, Spyro's not going to be with the Commandos for years. That last little bit is talking about the rest of the Hierarch Trilogy – and beyond it. Foreshadowing, see? Anyway, I hope you liked the fast update. Please review!**


	16. Chapter 16: Over the Top

**A/N: Okay, guys. Lithos Maitreya here again. And this time I have company. As of now, this story is being cowritten with Digolgrin. I strongly advise everyone to check out his other stuff. He and I have drastically different writing styles, so I'll be assimilating everything into my own tone, but this should mean much more frequent updates, since he loves this story probably more than I do. I just can't wait for the sequels.**

**So... sorry about the lateness, and this should help with it. Enjoy.**

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><p>Chapter XVI<p>

**Over the Top**

"_All blood runs red._"  
>~Eugene Bullard, first black-skinned combat pilot, 1917<p>

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><p>Cynder crept, cloaked, across the field. Eggs were already hatching around the young Hatchery, and the Zerg numbers were swelling, but they were far from dangerous-yet. Her zerg were burrowed behind a ridge, but there was almost a kilometer of ground to cover between that ridge and the Hatchery they were aiming for.<p>

She, on the other hand, could get very close-as of yet they had only one Spore Crawler deployed, and that one was easy to avoid.

They didn't expect an attack on the Mar'daan front this early, she decided. Their first mistake.

Her mind reached out and called to the fifteen Roaches behind her. As if on a unseen cue, they dove deep underground, hiding themselves from sight. No one would know they were even there unless they looked-or felt-hard enough. The lack of Spore Crawlers, fortunately, made that very much unlikely. They would be her honor guard.

Cynder studied the enemy force. Not much to fear, she thought. Mostly Zerglings-they'll never stand a chance against this many Roaches, and two Hydralisks. That might be a problem. In the instant before the battle began, she would call her Zerglings to charge. Then the Roaches would attack the enemy Zerglings, preparing to retaliate, from behind. In that time, her Zerglings would reach the battle and take on the Hydralisks.

And over all that time, she would be consuming the Hatchery.

No cause to wait, then. Her eyes closed for one moment, and then the Zerglings popped out of the earth a kilometer away and began the famous Zerg charge, feared by Terrans and Protoss alike. She took a fraction of an instant to admire them-they rushed across the creep-infested earth at incredible speeds-Zergling speeds-their powerful hind legs propelling them in great bounds.

There was a shriek and the enemy Zerglings began to charge back at them. With a flicker of thought, she launched her Roaches onto the surface, and acid sprayed onto the enemy beasts' backs. The Hydralisks hissed and began to launch their spines at her armored soldiers.

She quickly gave her Zerglings one simple order-prioritize the Hydralisks-and then turned to the Hatchery. She could remain cloaked while beginning the assimilation, she knew, but the Hatchery would feel its consciousness being overpowered and would immediately begin patrolling with its Spore Crawler. It knew she could not move while they were engaged in mental combat, so if the Spore Crawler found her while its soldiers were ready to fight, it would be difficult for her to survive, to say the least.

But that was the purpose of the battle. Her troops would keep the enemy at bay and eventually destroy them. Frankly, she hoped some would survive to be assimilated, but that was unnecessary. With a Hatchery of her own she could begin to produce soldiers from scratch.

The whole contemplation of strategy had taken only moments, and now she closed her eyes and stretched out her mind to the Hatchery. She met resistance, and began to push.

Sound was muted around her. The hissing of spines and acid, the growls and cries of the Zerg, all grew quieter and quieter until they were almost silent, as though she was hearing them from a vast distance. All that was present and significant was herself, the Hatchery, and their battle. And she knew who would win.

The Hatchery did too, and it was very much afraid. It retreated into a little ball of consciousness and tried to shield itself from her onslaught. She hissed at it and became Zerg. Claws of thought rent at its defenses, spines stabbed into its mind. Its cries were silent and anguished.

In one last blow, she dove headfirst into its broken walls and, reaching in, grasped at the heart of its mind and crushed it in her talons.

There was silence when she opened her eyes. The zerg were all watching her-one hydralisk had survived, but all of the Zerglings had been defeated-indeed, she had lost two, evening it out at thirteen. She called to the other Hydralisks, and they came, slowly, across the plain. The other Zerg she had set up a perimeter while they approached, and then she began production of Drones.

Fortunate indeed that there were minerals and vespene here. She sighed and sat down, back to the organic wall of the Hatchery-her Hatchery.

The Zerg would be coming soon.

* * *

><p>On the other side of the region, though, the battle was just getting started.<p>

Or to be more precise, it was just closing in.

"Delta, this is Hyperion. Be advised, our Observers see a massive incursion of Zerg forces closing on your position. They estimate at least twenty Roaches, two hundred Zerglings, and you-don't-wanna-know-how-many Hydralisks; and that's just on the surface. By all accounts, they are not a friendly relief force. I say again, they are not under friendly command. ETA three minutes."

"Roger Hyperion. We're already taking sporadic fire from the air, likely just to soften us up. AA's shooting back, but as of now, nothing too drastic. Anything else?"

"Affirmative. We cannot offer any support assets at this time, but once Aluriin has been retaken we'll send a detachment down to relieve you."

"That's all right, Hyperion. We're used to tight situations. We'll deal. Out."

Which was, of course, Sergeant Jake Willards' codeword for 'typical HQ bullshit.' While the 6th V-Spec, callsign Delta, could, in fact, make it through a tight spot with nothing but their own tactical knowledge and their own guns, sometimes it paid to have a couple additional blue-painted tanks, walkers, or, God forbid, even air support covering their backs as they moved in to do the various dirty and difficult deeds no normal Marine outfit could accomplish.

He hadn't realized how thick this shit was turning out to be, though.

With a deep sigh, he turned and placed a firm hand on his right-hand man's shoulder. He was staring out their bunker's viewport, C-10 sniper rifle set up and at the ready. "Joker," he spoke, addressing the sniper, whose face-like everyone else in the squad except for their new heavy weapons guy- was veiled to the world by his helmet, "you gettin' anything over there?"

Corporal Andrew Baine never took his eyes off the scope's viewfinder. "Nothin' the brass haven't already picked up, Boss," he replied. Carefully, he pulled back the bolt of his weapon to check to see if there was a round in the chamber-which there was-before returning it to its original position and pulling hard on the magazine to check its weight. "Sure are a hell of a lot of Hydras, though. Want me to start in on 'em?"

Willards nodded. "Yeah; focus on the Hydralisks. Zerglings we can handle, and I'm not about to ask you to snipe Roaches." Roaches, it was commonly known, were almost impossible to take down at long distance with anything but Penetrator rounds. Their armor was just too thick. Explosives were their only weakness.

Which meant...

"Spyro, Orion, you out there?"

"Yeah, Boss?" Orion. From the sound of things, Spyro hadn't yet picked up the difference between their actual names and their internal nicknames. That had to change in the next three minutes or they weren't going to go anywhere fast.

"I need explosions," said Willards flatly. "Big ones. Lots of 'em. You up for it, Nitro?"

Orion chuckled. "You know me too well. Mines?"

"Yeah. We've got twenty Roaches incoming, so I want them taken care of."

"Zerglings'll come first," Orion said slowly. "Mines are good for thinning them out, but for the Roaches we need to wait...and hope to God they don't burrow."

"I'll set up a Detection field," said Sarah Chambers, callsign Esper, quietly. "Nitro, you be ready with that rocket launcher."

"Got it, Esper," said Orion. "I'll lay mines."

"What should I do, Sergeant?" Spyro's voice was quiet but determined. Willards didn't like the man yet-his very presence cut too deep for that-but at least he seemed to be a decent soldier.

"Join me in the Bunker, get some cover, and get ready, Tank," said Willards, knowing that from that moment on, even though Spyro had no idea, 'Tank' would be their new squadmate's callsign-at least until he gave them a better idea.

The giant mini-Goliath-class frame began to turn and run in the general direction of the bunker. "On my way, but who's…?"

"Belay that for now," Baine cut in between rifle shots. "We'll talk about it later. You just get your shiny metal ass back here."

"All right. See you in a bit."

The sniper managed to get one additional round out of the barrel of his C-10 before he needed to reload. "Seriously, Sarge," he said conversationally as he loaded in the new canister. "Givin' the new guy a nickname before he's even fired a shot? Little ridiculous, ain't it?"

"Shut up, Baine," grunted Willards distractedly as he sighted down his own gun. "It's only temporary. Nothin' to get attached to."

For perhaps the twentieth time that day, Joker scoffed in reply. "Right…"

"All right," Willards said on TEAMCOM, "we've got a long night ahead of us, Delta. Let's not screw this up."

* * *

><p>In roughly the same amount of time it had taken to conquer the Hatchery, eight larvae, in addition to the four already produced at the time of its conquest, had already sprung to life and had started crawling along the creep carpet, waiting for something to come along and jump-start their growth into Drones. Each one held great potential, she knew; they could become anything from a simple Drone all the way up to an Overlord. It all depended on the needs of the hive and, by extension, their new Overmind.<p>

The question now became one of what was needed. The enemy Hive was frighteningly close, and was already preparing an assault on her Hatchery. The distance was short enough that even a slow Hydralisk would take little more than three or four minutes to arrive.

But there was one silver lining. The enemy Hive had been totally unaware of her plan until the Hatchery had already been taken, and would thus have only had its guard contingency. This it had already sent-her force had decimated it with minimal losses. It was now rebuilding its forces, preparing for a new, and more powerful, strike against her. But it was still building.

If she took action now, she could strike first and maybe, just maybe, take the hive for her own-which would practically give her the keys to Mar'daan. All she needed was one gallant advance with all her forces and it would be over.

Of course, it couldn't be as simple as that. Unlike with the Hatchery, its defenders weren't likely to be milling about like the insects back home (if huge varieties of the same). They were expecting action, and lots of it. She even expected much more powerful species than her base's former defenders, and therefore a much more difficult fight. Could her army manage it all? Probably not.

Not without help. One quick sweep of her immediate surroundings reminded her that she was in command of a giant heavily armed and armored Terran killing machine. Its guns would fill the gaps the Hive would have sought to exploit had she been on all fours. Anything too dangerous for the Swarm she'd take down before it even threatened its existence.

And besides... She hadn't yet found a reason to even consider using the MageWalker's weapons systems until now.

She took roll of her combat-capable forces one last time before heading out. Tactics and strategy would have to wait for later. "Let's get this over with," she said to no one in particular (though she had been looking at the image of Spyro on the right-claw side of her armored prison as she spoke). With that she stepped up her speed and left her base of operations behind...

And disappeared behind her cloaking field.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: There. I hope you liked it, and I'm sure Dig does too. I'll try to get him into the Author's notes from now on.**

**Anyway, please review! Thanks!**


	17. Chapter 17: Firestorm

**A/N: I'm low on time, but Digolgrin and I just finished this. I'm sorry it took so long, but on the plus side, it's long. And it's got action. Lots of it. Enjoy.**

* * *

><p><span>Chapter XVII<span>

**Firestorm**

"_This thing of darkness I acknowledge mine._"

-William Shakespeare, _The Tempest, _V.i.

* * *

><p><em>Let's see now...<em> Cynder thought, scouting out the path ahead. The Hive was close by, she felt, so it wasn't long before at least one of her troops-possibly including herself-made contact with the enemy. Her Roaches had buried themselves behind her, taking good care not to make any sudden tremors, and the rest of her army was trudging along in the direction of their designated target. She herself was positioned on a high ledge, close to both the enemy Hive and the direction of her Swarm's assault. It was from here that she would support its advance, driving off or killing anything that stood in its way.

By her estimate, it was still about two minutes or so before they arrived, so she had some small time before the fireworks started.

Her first order of business, then, was to reconnoiter the area and take note of the hostile Swarm's defense force, which would soon be sent against her new Hatchery. Finding the Hive itself wasn't difficult; just like how all roads lead straight to the Dragon City, all the creep flowed right back to it. The thing was huge, stretching at least two hundred feet wide; much larger than any she'd yet encountered. For lack of better words, this one was enormous.

That, of course, was to say nothing of the monstrosities that awaited her. Her scanners showed at least two hundred Zerg blocking her path, maybe more, all poised to destroy the rebel Hatchery at the drop of a hat. They were all thirsty for the blood of traitors of the Swarm, likely slobbering right out of their massive mouths. It was a grotesque thought.

But she was only studying a radar screen. That wouldn't tell her anything about what species of Zerg her forces would encounter, and it was her duty to learn as much as she could, as soon as possible. So she returned her gaze to the front of the MageWalker.

There wasn't much of a difference between the amount of Zerg on screen and those on the outside world. The only real discrepancy was how large they were compared to the tiny blips and dots the onboard computer rendered on screen. At first glance, it appeared as if there was nothing she hadn't already seen; a couple of hulking Overlords here, a herd of Ultralisks there, a squadron of flying Mutalisks somewhere up above, six Spore Crawlers littered about the area... Dangerous, but fairly run-of-the-mill regardless.

Unfortunately, two of those Crawlers had decided to plant themselves on the very same path her Swarm was presently taking, and at least one other was eyeing her position suspiciously-or at least, squirming in that general direction, lack of actual optics notwithstanding. If they were to retain the element of surprise, those Crawlers needed to go.

_Looks like I'll need to take those Crawlers down before anything else, _she decided._ I can probably distract most of them if I let loose now._

Just then, something else rounded the corner. It was large, ugly, walked on six legs, and bore what appeared to be membrane-less wings on its back. A few Banelings appeared to be following it around like loyal dogs, waiting for a command. The other Zerg even shot a glance at it the very instant it appeared.

This could mean only one thing. _Is that the Queen?!_ she yelped internally. That monstrosity held the figurative keys to the Hive and, therefore, everything under its control. If that thing were allowed to remain alive, taking her domain would require breaking through her psionic barriers before she could even attempt to steal her palace.

Or scorching a giant hole in her face. Either would work; she was, for all intents and purposes, the Queen of her own Swarm anyway, so the loss of a single potential competitor wouldn't hurt her army in the slightest.

Although it couldn't hurt to have something else watch over her Swarm's possessions...

"Okay, Queen, looks like I'll be gunning for you after I dispose of your Crawlers."

She switched consciousness to the Zerglings leading the march for a brief moment to judge their progress. Like it or not, they were still, by her estimates, not far out. If they met this Hive head on in its current state, they would still be demolished.

Lucky for them, because she wasn't about to wait two minutes.

She switched off her cloak, stood up, and fired three rounds from her grenade launcher, using it as a long-ranged artillery weapon, before turning her lasers and guns onto the idling enemy Swarm.

Just below, all hell was about to break loose. The hail of lead, energy beams and high explosives tore right through half of the Spore Crawlers before focusing its direct attention on the massed groups of Zerg. Two of the three projectiles fell right on top of two separate yet tightly grouped packs of Zerglings, and the other became a surprised and confused Ultralisk's first and final meal of the day. Two of its brethren took shrapnel from the resulting explosion, though only one remained standing.

The very next thing she did would, looking back, seem to be more than a little irrational, but as long as she was going to go all-out on these bugs, it couldn't hurt to go the extra mile, right?

Immediately after the grenades reached her targets, she switched over to her external speakers and-she couldn't believe she was doing this-roared.

A female Dragon's roar has, on occasion, been described as a softer and more feminine screech than that of her male counterparts. No single part of such a statement is untrue, but any such perspective can be assumed to be secondhand.

Certainly, the Dragoness' roar is more a screech than her brother's. Yes, it's slightly softer in volume, and is, by nature, more feminine. But it is feminine in the same way that the vicious and powerful lioness is; or perhaps more accurately, the screech of a terrifying banshee. And Cynder's element of Fear was not a gift possessed lightly, for her roar could not be better described than fearsome.

Everything that hadn't already been alerted by the sound of gunfire and explosions now immediately knew the source of all the ensuing chaos-and despite its Terran exterior, seemed to be something else entirely on the inside.

The Zerg Swarm was not known for quickness to cower, however, and this only incensed the Queen and the rest of her Swarm. It was clear from what she saw of her reaction that this big mother had no time for games. Her Banelings raced to her defense like the good dogs they were, giving her time to do the smart thing and make tracks for somewhere safe.

_Cowardly bitch._

But just as she switched the loudspeakers off so she could complain to herself, a hail of green fire landing very close to her position brought her attention back to the battlefield. The Mutalisks had been very quick on the draw, and they knew an easy target when they saw one. Unfortunately for them, their aim was off, but they could change that in an instant.

If all of her fighting experience, both here and back home, could tell her one thing about this situation, it'd be to get the hell off this ledge before the Mutalisks tried their luck again. Then she could move to a different position, and shred those sorry excuses for Dragons. Whatever it took, she had to get into cover-wherever that was-and fast.

And the best way to do that without risking immediate and almost certain annihilation was down.

Mental protests aside, a few quick nanoseconds of planning made sure she was prepared. The way she saw it, the best way to survive impact was to simply disappear. The cliff face looked smooth enough to allow her to slide down to ground level in a heartbeat. Once she'd done that, she'd hit the cloaking device and run to better cover.

Hopefully, the Mutalisks would be too focused on blowing away her last known position to notice her reappearance. Even if they weren't, well, they were as good as barbecue. It was almost foolproof.

So she took a deep breath and jumped.

Hours spent airborne pounded the instinct of flapping her wings the instant her feet left the ground into her head-but the tight quarters of her cockpit suppressed even the thought of flight. That meant gravity had every right to take its course. But even so, flying away was not on the agenda.

Instead, she extended her legs and made sure the pelvis of the exoskeleton made contact with the cliff face. Then, seeking to multitask, she pointed her guns downrange and spewed as much lead in that direction as she could, not intending to really hit anything. She did-a couple small Zerg whose breed she could not be bothered to confirm fell under the impromptu onslaught-but that wasn't a major concern.

She focused instead on making a safe landing. She did-although her suit creaked slightly in protest at the impact. _Stop whining, _she mentally chided the metal shell. _You can handle it._

She looked around quickly as she cloaked. In a moment, she saw her-the enemy Queen was on the run, but not so far away yet.

Cynder knew she did not have time to chase the monster. Her Swarm would be decimated if she tried during the interim. But, it occurred to her, she really didn't have to.

She smiled, and reached out with her mind, not to the Queen, but toward the Hive.

The Queen stopped moving, confirming Cynder's belief that the minor cerebrate wasn't powerful enough to multitask in both the physical and psionic plane. The Dragoness felt the alien mind rushing to erect walls around the central intelligence of the brood.

But Cynder was faster. Even as the beast moved to cut her off, she revealed her feint and turned her mind on the now unprotected Queen. She felt the beast's mind rail in shock, struggle in horror.

Cynder growled and thrust a mental knife into her enemy's brain. Resistance quailed, withered, died. The Queen was hers.

Cynder smirked and turned her attention to the Hive. A short struggle of wills later, the battlefield was silent. Another brood had fallen, and Cynder's mind was filled with the clamor of a hundred more bodies begging her attention.

_Don't worry, it's just a minor change in command, you'll be fine. _Cynder's eyes opened and she surveyed the silent Creep Carpet. _Well, not that minor, but you'll adapt, _she amended, knowing the Zerg couldn't understand her musings in the strictest sense. _That's what we're good at._

She quickly used the eyes of the brood she'd taken to examine the area. Her old holding lay comfortingly behind her, secure and safe to the west. However, the creep path diverged at this brood.

_There's going to be a Hive in either direction._ Of that much, she was certain. One trail led north, the other ran east. But which should she move to take?

She considered. Could her small Swarm assault both at once-she enslaving one while her forces annihilated the other?

The short answer was no, she found. The risk was too great; a generous estimation of her odds gave her a 50-50 shot at best. The enemy Hives had thus far been too well-defended for her forces to have a real shot at destroying them, even with numbers bolstered from this most recent conquest. She had always been the ace in the hole, and without her, any pitched battle would be a catastrophe.

_Only one at a time, then-at least for now, _she decided.

Her boots sank into the fungal mat as she made her way toward the Hive. As she walked, she began issuing Psionic commands to Zerg around her. _You five, get to the north end of the brood. You, Ultralisk, take those mutalisks and get to the East. Crawlers, I want you repositioned-our western perimeter is secure. It's the east I'm worried about._

She reached the Hive and leaned idly against its organic wall, glad for the respite. She looked down at Spyro's face, focused intently on something outside his suit. She shook herself. There would be time to talk later.

She plugged in Raynor's radio code. "Commander?" she asked, a little skeptically. He _was_ a long way away, after all.

"_Cynder?_" His voice was slightly distorted by static, but still certainly his own. "_What's up, Darlin'?_"

She smirked at the affectionate nickname. It certainly sounded a hell of a lot better than an annoyingly untrue epithet like 'Terror of the Skies', so it pleased her to be called something else. "The Creep diverges here. Do you want me to head north or east? I don't have the numbers to divide the Swarm."

Raynor was silent for a moment. "_I'm not in the command center right now, Darlin', and I ain't got a map in my head. See if Spyro can't patch you through to the Protoss-it's their planet, after all._"

She nodded. "Yes, sir."

She closed the channel and opened her private communication with Spyro.

* * *

><p>"Spyro?" The young Purple Dragon started, and he knew his suit reflected it when Boss frowned at him. "Something the matter, Tank?"<p>

"No, sir." Spyro closed the external audio feed so his conversation wouldn't be overheard and spoke to the Black Dragoness across the screen and half a world. "Cynder. What's going on? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she smiled at him, clearly seeing his stress. "Busy?"

"A bit." He looked over the barricade of the Bunker. Joker was on the roof, sniping at the Zerg across the bridge, but he wasn't doing much damage, and they all knew it. The line was too far away, but the Zerg could close distance _fast_. "There's a lull in the fighting now, but they'll be back in a bit."

The Zerg force had arrived just an hour ago. The bunker's defenses, coupled with their firepower and elite _man_power had allowed them to keep the Zerg at bay without any measurable difficulties-yet. Spyro knew it couldn't last, however-the Zerg were too many and they could just keep coming. He couldn't shake the feeling that this would be their last respite.

They'd surprised the Zerg with their ability to hold. The next assault would not be light or short.

"Then we should be quick." Cynder's voice was all business. "I need orders from the Protoss; I've just taken another Hive and the Creep path here forks. I can go either north or east. Can you talk to them?"

Spyro hissed. He didn't like infringing on the Khala, but he had no choice now. "I'll see what I can do."

He opened his audio to the team. "I'm going to be communicating with base for a bit, hit me if something happens, but it shouldn't take more than a few seconds."

"See that it doesn't," grumbled Sergeant Willards, glaring balefully at him. "And tell them we _need some __**fucking**__ support_, while you're at it."

"Respectfully, of course," chuckled Baine.

Spyro smiled as he withdrew from TeamCOM. "I'm entering the Khala," he told Cynder quietly.

His eyes closed and his mind opened. There was Artanis, and there were Urun, Zeratul, and Selendis.

He decided, impulsively, that Zeratul was his best bet for actually getting anything done quickly. Urun despised him, Selendis didn't seem to command quite as much authority, and contacting Artanis directly could be seen as a threat.

With all that in mind, he reached out to the old Dark Templar. _Prelate?_ he 'said.' _Are you busy?_

_Not at this time, Spyro,_ the aged Protoss replied. _What do you require?_

_Cynder's come to a place where the Creep path diverges,_ he explained, _and she wants to know whether to go north or east. Also, Sergeant Willards respectfully requests some support. He was a bit more colorful, though._

Zeratul sent him something like a mental grin, despite the lack of a face (and the lack of a mouth on the face that was lacking). _Of course. Give me a moment._

With that, the Prelate withdrew. A moment later, he returned to Spyro's consciousness, brushing gently against the Dragon's mind. _Artanis suggests that she move east, and then turn south when possible. That will allow her to relieve your troop from the other end of the bridge._

_Understood, Prelate. Thank you. _Spyro broke the connection and patched back to Cynder. "The Protoss say to move east and then turn south to give us some support."

"So I'll meet you at your land bridge?" Cynder asked with a grin.

"Yeah," Spyro said, grinning back tiredly. "Don't take too long, though, or there may not be much of us left."

The smile slipped off the Dragoness' face. "I got it. I'm on my way. Hold tight, Spyro." She severed the link.

Spyro opened back to TeamCOM. "We've got support coming from the other side of the bridge, but it'll be a while."

"The other side…?" Joker prompted. "What, are a bunch of our good friends, the totally-not-evil Zerg, going to ambush their brethren from behind?"

Spyro nodded, though they couldn't see, and said, "Yes."

There was a moment of silence.

"Y'know, Tank," said Baine conversationally, "I think this right here is gonna be the start of a beautiful relationship."

"Stow that noise!" Esper's voice cut harshly into the banter. "Incoming Roaches, burrowed!"

"Damn," Boss muttered. "Nitro, you're up. Give 'em hell."

Spyro could practically see the crazed grin on the man's face as he crowed, "One generous helping of country-style deep-fried Zerg, courtesy of Raynor's Raiders Catering, coming up!"

Spyro's eyes flicked between the radar, which showed a veritable night sky of little hostile red stars approaching the small green blob of bunker, and the viewport before him which showed stillness from their position until the distant-and unmoving-Zerg line far away.

Then there was a flash and a sound like distant thunder, and on the radar a swathe of red was gone. Another explosion and another crater in the enemy advance.

Then the Zerglings rushed. Spyro raised his arms and began to fire. Several of the beasts were perforated in the first wave of lead, but more filled the gap, flooding over and around the corpses.

Spyro grimaced. _This__** is**__ gonna be a long night…_

"Ha!" Nitro's call went up as a grenade shot over the MageWalker. Spyro's instincts took over and he ducked behind cover.

Even as he did, the small explosive detonated. By the harsh squealing beyond the barricade, Spyro guessed it had been effective. He raised himself up, pointed his shoulder at the enemy, and launched a few grenades of his own. The resultant blasts eliminated many more Zerglings, but by that time, the line had reached the bunker.

Spyro gritted his teeth as he fired blindly into the writhing horde. The barricades would not last long, and he knew it. Already they were starting to buckle…

"Tank!" Sergeant Willards voice penetrated the violence. "Get out there and keep them off the bunker so Esper can repair the barricades!"

Spyro blinked. _I'll never survive that for long,_ he realized dully. Even so, his knees bent, and he vaulted over the wall, landing on a pair of Zerg that were scrabbling at the metal.

Spyro spun, still firing. Several bullets pinged off the side of the bunker, but several more buried themselves in the guts of the enemy monsters. A few were even unfortunate enough to be bashed by the whirling cannon of his hands, their faces ground into meat by the spinning barrels.

At once, the Zerg assault converged on him. A blade penetrated a cord in the Walker's knee, sending a current surging through Spyro's body.

Spyro roared even as his body began to twitch. _**No! **_his mind rebelled. _My body is __**mine!**_

With that thought he reached into the Khala and exerted his will over his own body. The electricity still flowed through him, still sending him into agony, but his body no longer rejected his control.

He hissed and kicked out at a mass of wriggling flesh. _I will __**not**__ die here!_

A Zergling was flung away by an involuntary blast of Psionic force. _Not yet!_

A storm of crackling violet energy appeared over a horde a little distance from the bunker. Zerg wailed as their bodies and minds fried in unison.

Spyro roared again as he brought his foot up and pounded it into the earth. A shockwave-emanated from the impact-driven, not by an actual force driven into the ground, but by an artificial force of psionic energy.

And suddenly there was a clearing around him, a void left by zerg who had been destroyed, blown away, or both.

Spyro found he was breathing heavily, but not so heavily that he had nothing left to offer. He looked around. The Zerg seemed to be retreating. _I could probably hold off a Zergling-exclusive assault, _Spyro thought. _They'll be regrouping and preparing a real force. When they come back, I don't think I'll be enough to hold them off. Not forever._

"Well, shit." Spyro turned at the Sergeant's voice. Willards stood motionless in a mixture of shock, awe, and a miniscule fear that neither he nor Spyro would ever comment on. His jaw was agape-practically torn loose top from bottom. "What in the name of God was _that_?"

"Good question," said Spyro flatly. He was too tired to bother with these Terrans; they didn't seem to like him very much. "I don't know, but I do know that when they come back, we're dead if we don't do something."

"True enough," Joker said as he slid down from the roof. "Reckon Nitro should lay some more mines, Boss?"

Willards shook himself. "Yeah. See to it, Nitro."

"Yes sir. Nice barbecue, Tank!" Then he saluted the both of them and ran off.

Esper snorted. "Tank is right. Bastard just rolled right over them." She looked at him with an odd kind of respect from her vantage point, still atop the bunker. "I like it."

Baine chuckled. "I'll like it a lot better in a few days with a beer. Let's make sure we can get that far, yeah?"

Spyro rolled his eyes. "Esper, can you check my knee? The Zerg got through a chink in the armor earlier." The electric shock had long since died down as power rerouted, but Spyro wanted to make sure the leg wouldn't stiffen in the middle of a fight.

She nodded and slid down after Joker to check on him. As she approached, however, she stiffened. "They're pulling _back_?" she asked incredulously.

Spyro turned. The Zerg were moving, but not in their direction. The Swarm was moving north as one, away from them…

...And towards Cynder's campaign.

Spyro's eyes widened. "Dammit!" He shut off TeamCOM and opened his private channel with Cynder. "Cynder, do you hear me?"

* * *

><p>"<em>Busy!<em>" Cynder blocked a Hydralisk's scythes with her right forearm as her left hand-cannon perforated its gut. _Don'ttalkdon'ttalkdon'ttalkdon'ttalk…_

Cynder was currently in the middle of a melee with a Zerg kill squad which had assaulted her farthest-forward Hive. At the same time, she was micromanaging her Queen and the detachment of other Zerg here-most of her army. _While she did __**that**_, she was trying to use the combined power of herself and her Queen's psionics to enslave the three Overlords that had come with the enemy detachment, which would allow her to capture the whole force.

Talking to Spyro in the middle of all that was just asking for her brain to deep-fry itself.

Fortunately, her Purple Dragon took the hint and stayed silent, though she could practically feel his worry. Cynder spun, catching a leaping Zergling with her fist and throwing it to the ground with extreme prejudice.

_There!_ Two of the Overlords were hers. She felt the difference at once. All of the enemy Zerg were now being controlled by the limited grey matter of the last Overlord, and their tactics suffered accordingly. The best it could do was have them all rush her and hope that the beasts' instincts were good enough to overwhelm her.

_Well, they aren't, _thought Cynder as she ordered her Zerg to attack the enemy from behind. Their instinct to avoid flanking attacks would now conflict with the Overlord's commands, which would help her.

She brought her arms down. The scraping of bone-blade on metal filled her ears, but the monsters' aim was atrocious as it was. Rather than bother blocking ineffective attacks, Cynder focused every ounce of brainpower she could muster on that one Overlord.

As it had been she'd been fighting with only a fraction of her brain. The Overlord had been falling under the rain of light blows as it was. Now, with all her force, she swept its brain under a mental tidal wave, drowning it in her will.

With one last snarl she deftly severed its bindings to the rest of the Swarm. The battle was hers.

For a few brief moments, the enemy became disorganized as they tried to figure out who among them was in charge. Then they too fell under Cynder's influence. _Talk about your weak-minded underlings..._

She sighed. "Okay. Sorry, Spyro." She looked over at her display of her worried-looking companion. "I was in the middle of a minor scuffle; but the enemy had other sympathies."

"Cynder," he said urgently, "The force of Zerg that was attacking us; it's left. It's headed your way."

Cynder's eyes widened. "How many?" She asked quickly.

Spyro shrugged helplessly. "Over a hundred. At least fifty Zerglings, even with the damage_ I_ did."

Cynder gritted her teeth. "All right. Looks like I'll just have to deal. I've got the numbers to deal with that-it's that _and_ the four or five Hives that're left that I'm worried about."

"Do you want me to come help you?" Spyro asked.

Cynder shook her head. "No, we have orders. Stay with the commandos. I'll be fine." _I hope._

Spyro looked worried. "Good luck, Cynder."

"You too, Spyro." She severed the link and began preparing her troops for the coming assault.

She'd pinpointed most of the other hives and knew where the Zerg would be coming from. They would likely try to break her line in one massive assault, but she could not know where that assault would hit.

_It'll come from the south,_ she thought, _because moving that many Zerg all the way around would be a problem…_

_...Except that they have a Nydus network. Well, I guess I know what I need._

Nydus worms had their own cerebral matter and were under the direct control of the primary Hive Cluster. She hadn't captured any-they committed effective suicide when their host Hive fell, to keep outsiders from using it.

On one claw, this severed all her Hives from the network. But on the other, that meant her enemy would be able to hop a fast train to one of the remaining Hives, from which they could flank her...

...Or, she realized, from which they would be able to send another assault force to Spyro's position. Worse, as long as they had one Zerg burrowed and hidden near Spyro's bunker, they could launch a Nydus worm and emerge right below their position.

Cynder's eyes closed as she fought down the panic. It would do no good. Instead, she tried to think. _How can I keep them off Spyro's back?_

_I need to give them another target._ She grimaced. She could not afford to attack and also defend her Hives in case the Swarm attacked her rather than Spyro. A Nydus network for quick redeployment would help, but it would be insufficient if they were smart and attacked two Hives at once.

She shrugged; losses were a part of war, and she had no choice. She reached out her mind to each of her Hives.

As her consciousness brushed them, she delivered her orders. One Drone at her most fortified cluster moved away from the other buildings and began to evolve.

Every Larva she had she used to increase her military. She'd lost several Zerglings in the last fight and she needed to restock.

She worked with her many evolution structures to try to figure out how some of the other Zerg worked. Ultralisks would be more than useful now.

And then she found a Greater Spire, sitting dormant near one of her Hives.

A grin came across her face and she threw herself into the living structure's genetic secrets. _Queen, help me,_ she ordered. The Queen's mind hissed at her as it obeyed.

Absently she moved her troops around as she worked. A small team of new Zerglings she sent to one of the enemy Hives to keep them busy. She relocated a major part of the horde toward the new Nydus Network.

Then she was done, and she understood. Not consciously-she couldn't have told Spyro how the genetic code of a Brood Lord or Corruptor worked-but she _could _make them.

So she did. Several larva, just birthed, entered their pupae and began to morph.

Then the Nydus network was done and she ordered it to place Nydus worms at all her Hives. That would certainly help.

She sat down, exhausted, on the Creep. _A Nydus Network, air support, and a growing Swarm,_ she mused. _Not half bad. We might just survive the night._

She sent several Zerglings on patrol around her Hives-being taken by surprise now, when she was so close to being ready, would be devastating.

She opened her channel with Spyro. "Spyro. You there?"

"Here. What's going on? You still okay?" Spyro's voice was concerned.

She grinned. "If they don't attack for the next…" she ran a quick check with her Swarm, "...Five minutes, I'll be fine. Do you have visibility on burrowed Zerg?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "Esper's got some sort of detector up. Why?"

"They might be sending Zerg your way via Nydus," she explained. "Make sure they don't…"

The warning screech cut her off. She stood quickly and turned. Her flank was being attacked-at the very Hive she was at.

And most of her forces weren't here…

...And the Nydus network wouldn't be up for another five minutes.

"...Take you by surprise," she finished glumly. "Well, they're here."

"Don't die on me, Cynder," Spyro said forcefully, fear evident in his tone. "You _can't_ die!"

She grinned dully at him. "I'll do my best," she promised, because that was all she could promise.

And with that, she shut off the comm. _Queen, on me!_ she ordered.

The Queen gave its hissing, screeching call and took its place on her flank, and together they charged into the fray.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I'd normally give Digolgrin a chance to put any comments of his in here, but he's not online and I won't have another chance to post this in days. So, sorry, Dig, but I get the A/N this time.**


	18. Chapter 18: Night Watch

**A/N: Well, it's back. I've actually got a bit to say before we just go on, though.**

**First, of course, I'm sorry this took so long. I've had a lot of projects going on at the same time, not all of which involve writing, and most of which are not fun. Besides that, I've had to make sure that the tone of this story remains consistent in spite of the addition of a second co-author, Digolgrin. While Dig and I are, in my opinion, of close to equal skill, we do have radically different styles. For example, his work tends to be peppered with pseudo-scientific description for the tech nerd inherent in fans of this genre more than mine is. More importantly, his stuff will every so often pop an exclamatory into the authorial description, which I never do; I tend to remain detached from the action of the characters in a way reminiscent of, say, Steinbeck, whereas Digolgrin gets into the thick of it with his characters like Tolkien. Both valid, but very different, and since this story used to be written in my style, I'm trying to keep it that way for consistency's sake alone. So that's been slowing us down a bit to the point that we're barely faster than if I were working alone.**

**But we **_**are**_ **a little faster, believe me. And since I plan on devoting more energy to this now that this incredibly hard to write chapter is done, I hope to put this story to bed by the spring. So that's something to look forward to… but more than that, I'm really excited for the sequel, **_**Thunderdusk**_**, which is when the saga really gets interesting.**

**But I've jabbered on enough. Enjoy.**

* * *

><p>Chapter XVIII<p>

**Night Watch**

"_To forget the dead would be akin to killing them a second time."_

-Elie Wiesel, _Night_

* * *

><p>"Alright Delta, listen up. Our rookie thinks the enemy might have given up trying to take us on directly."<p>

"After that performance? Hell, Tank's probably gone and earned us a couple hours' sleep!" Baine reclined on the wall, rifle in his lap.

Willards sighed. "Joker, straighten up and get your damn head out of the clouds. This is serious."

Indeed it was. The Sergeant had called everyone away from their posts for a personal, face-to-face debriefing. With Spyro as the only exception, everyone had their weapons and gear close at hand, just in case the Zerg decided to try their luck again. Everyone _except _for him and Willards was sitting down, in varying states of readiness.

"Tank, go ahead and tell 'em what you told me."

Spyro straightened up as best he could. "I have... a friend who knows the Zerg a lot better than I do. She thinks they might try to forego the bridge and just take us out before anything else."

"And exactly _how _are they going to pull that off? Mass of Muties?" Nitro asked, with a disbelieving chuckle.

To this, Spyro sighed. They weren't going to like this. "I don't remember the _exact_ details... But apparently, if there's even one zerg burrowed out there, an entire assault force could just emerge right in front of us."

"Wait, you mean like a _Nydus_?"

Was that the term Cynder had used? Spyro wasn't quite certain, but the word 'network' did sound quite similar. So he nodded-though no one could see it-and simply replied "I think so, yeah."

As he'd expected, his squadmates groaned. But this groan wasn't one of stress, or of disappointment. To him, it sounded like a groan of _dread_. As though they had come to hate that word at some point in the recent past. Whatever it was, they seemed to have a painful history with that idea.

"Shit, I didn't even think of that," muttered Joker furiously, humor gone for the moment. "Of _course_ they'd send a goddamn Nydus Worm up our asses; gets 'em inside our damn guard without even trying!"

"Alright, cut the goddamn chatter!" Almost immediately, Willards had jumped into action trying to dissuade his comrades' concerns about the situation. "Look. We knew the Zerg wouldn't give this place up without a fight, especially since it's a natural bridge. I've got a feelin' that last attack was just the opening act. That's why _we're_ here, after all. Command doesn't just send Delta out for no reason."

"Yeah, but this little bunker of ours ain't gonna mean shit if they come up below us." Nitro muttered. "With all due respect, if they've got a worm coming up under this bunker, we'll be dead before it even starts puking Zerg-it'll just eat us. And that's putting it _mildly_."

"Relax, Orion. They wouldn't have burrowed this far up; not with you and Tank around." Esper pointed out. She'd been the only one _not _to complain about the above-all unthinkable idea of being crushed to death in the span of one second. "'Sides, they couldn't even if they wanted to. I've got detection up, remember?" She laughed litghtly, if a bit darkly. "I find your lack of faith disturbing."

Joker could only scoff in response. "Yeah, well, news flash, Esper; that thing's range is limited. What's it got, something like fifty meters in all directions?"

This only got him a cocked eyebrow from Chambers. "Okay, maybe a little more than that," he admitted. "Seventy-five, maybe a hundred at best, but beyond that, we've got absolutely no goddamn clue where they are."

"Almost three hundred, thanks," Esper grumbled.

"But for all we know, they could be on the riverbank, just waiting for it to get dark so they can start charging across when we're off guard!" Orion retorted. "And below the ground, too. That's cheating."

That remark brought the Sergeant back down on their heads. "The words 'fair fight' were never in your vocabulary anyway, Nitro. You're the one carrying all the high explosives," he pointed out. Then, he turned to Esper. "And you're right; even if they try skipping the bridge, they'll still have to make their way towards us."

"Which means your landmines'll see a lot of action," Chambers winked. "Like shooting fish in a barrel."

Nitro and Joker both cracked subtle smiles. "That's the one good thing that could come out of this," Baine agreed.

"I'm no expert, Sergeant," Spyro finally chimed in, "but couldn't we just cut this network off at the source?"

To this inquiry, Willards took a knee and scratched his chin in undeniable thought. His leftover fingers seemed to be outlining potential tactics and strategies as they criss-crossed the floor. Then they stopped in sudden decision, and he gave a deep sigh. "If that sun weren't going down right now, I'd say 'hell yeah,'" he decided. "But we don't know where that exit point's gonna be, and I don't want to risk you or anyone else feeling in the dark for a **giant fucking** _**worm!**_"

Spyro cringed slightly in an unseen reply, and he thanked the Ancestors his front claws weren't in command of the MageWalker's arms at that moment. He didn't mind all of that in the middle of battle, but here, at the brink of nightfall, the end of his first full day on Aiur, it just seemed... Well, loud and simply _vulgar_.

But it _did_ seem to give Joker an idea. "Hey, hold on," he signaled. Then he scooted his rear end closer to Chambers. "Esper, what's the maximum transmission range on your motion sensors again?"

"About five hundred meters. Why?"

Joker smirked, then whipped his head back around to Spyro with a grin that the Dragon really didn't like the look of. "Whaddya say we take one of 'em on a little walk around the bridge?"

Spyro blinked.

Baine wanted him to go out there alone.

At night.

On a currently tranquil, yet usually zerg-infested, and potentially very deadly world that could turn hostile at any moment.

_And here I thought __**Nitro**_ _was crazy._

But before he could open his mouth to protest, every eye in the bunker had its gaze firmly planted on him like so many laser sights. It was almost as if they had collectively decided he was the only chance they had of surviving to see the next sunrise.

Spyro shook himself. _What's wrong with you? _he asked himself viciously. _You've got stronger armor than any of them, and this is hardly the worst thing you've faced! Remember the Destroyer?_

He sighed. He was getting scared, and it wasn't a pleasant feeling, but fear was an old friend by this time: one whose warnings he was used to ignoring.

"I'll do it," he agreed. "Give me a detector, Esper."

Esper quickly and lithely got to her feet and pulled a small mechanical contraption off of her back, where various pieces of equipment were harnessed. She walked into his blind spot, where he heard her snap it onto something on the MageWalker's rear end.

"I've hooked it into the armor's reactor," she explained. "Your walker'll power it and might even give it a signal boost. Your HUD should warn you if you go out of transmission range."

"Got it," Spyro nodded. "Should I just patrol the bridge and beach?"

"Yep." Willards' confirmation was short, but not displeased-rather something like the reverse. "I'll have Nitro get his rocket launcher set up. He'll be able to blow anything you find clean outta their holes, mandibles and all."

Nitro laughed and stood up. "Oh, this'll be _good_," he giggled. "Find me some cockroaches to roast, Tank!"

Joker chuckled. "Just make sure you can eat whatever he puts on your plate, Orion."

"Believe me, Corporal, you know I won't miss a scrap."

"Cut it." Willards didn't seem happy about the situation. He was studying Spyro's visor as though trying to see through it, and there was an odd expression on his face. He shook his head and looked away. "Good luck, Tank. Come back in one piece, if possible."

_So he __**does**_ _care. _"I'll try," was all he could say.

Willards only gave him an aside nod. "Alright, sun's comin' down, and we've got a gameplan. I want everyone geared up and switched to night vision in ten. You with me?"

Various sounds of affirmation arose from the rest of the squad. This made Willards smile. "Alright Delta, you know your assignments. Dismissed!"

Spyro simply sighed, brought his front claws back to bear on the MageWalker's arms, and turned for the exit as the rest of the squad returned to their duties. The thought then occurred to him that, whatever 'night vision' was, he didn't know how to bring it up on his HUD. He considered asking Esper for help with that problem...

...But, as he thought about it, another told him that he didn't really need to. _If Cynder and I could see where we were going at Twilight Falls, then I can see just fine without. _He switched over to TEAMCOM as he plodded outside for the third, and hopefully last, time. "I'm headed out," he said. "Keep an eye on me, Esper."

"Alright. Switching your detector on now."

Almost immediately, his radar screen recognized and began to reap the benefits of being hooked up to a detection field. Sounds, in particular his own footsteps and that of the bulkhead closing behind him, were now being picked up and registered on screen, which, Spyro guessed, were how Esper could pinpoint the locations of burrowed or otherwise hidden foes. It was clear that being able to read and relay that data back to Nitro was key to being able to get some decent sleep.

On that note, Spyro's thoughts turned back to Cynder. He hadn't checked on her since the enemy turned their little tails around and started harassing her instead of him. Pressing concerns of his own kept him from contacting her, of course, but he was still deeply worried.

The one glimpse he dared snatch of her face for the moment seemed to establish that she, too, was playing the part of vigilante, or, at least, it seemed like she was. _Probably just as entrenched as she was last time, _he concluded. _No point in breaking her concentration. Ancestors, watch over her._

With that, his eyes turned to the night outside. It was time to go hunting.

* * *

><p>If there were ever a time Cynder found herself being happy and relieved to see a sunset, this would be it. The last few hours had been incredibly taxing, and not just on her swarm. Her ammunition, usually reserved for encounters she didn't want to end through 'persuasion', was fast running dry, and she knew it. Her grenade launcher was down to naught more than four rounds, her left arm cannon had maybe six or seven seconds of fire left in it, her right barely even ten, and her laser was now living off of reactor power.<p>

In short, her MageWalker's role on the battlefield had become much more limited than it was when her campaign began. Indeed, deep down she was furious for not thinking about the possibility of running dry sooner.

But that would have only been an issue, however, if her current territory was solely limited to the one Hatchery she took at the beginning of the battle. Granted, she couldn't launch any major offensives given her current numbers and Spyro's warning, but what she had could, in theory, fend for itself on all current fronts with minimal help required.

Or so she hoped. With the sort of opposition she was expecting, nothing was certain. Everything rested solely on adaptability and luck.

_Well, adaptability is our specialty, isn't it? _she thought dryly. Growing serious once more, she tried to examine the situation in its simplest terms. A brief interrogation of the many zerg she'd taken over these past couple hours had revealed that, by amazing coincidence-not that it struck her as such-the Swarm that'd buggered out of Aluriin and now sought her destruction was under the jurisdiction of the Hive to the east, which she'd been ordered to go take right before it turned around and began bearing down on her. She also learned that it had a Nydus hub, likely about to be used against Spyro and the commandos holding the bridge. Taking that Hive down was now her top priority, but her situation was far from favorable tactically. _The MageWalker's next to useless in direct combat now, and I don't have enough Zerg to attack. If I hold my position, they won't be able to take out my troops any faster than I produce them, but I won't get any reinforcements either._

_I need more soldiers. I can't win a war of attrition against that Swarm; not in the long run. The problem's going to be getting them off my back long enough to build up my forces._

She sighed and started burning through her options. Her province might be a hop, skip and a jump away from where Spyro was holed up, but there was every possibility Terran air support was tied up with the ongoing offensive and likely couldn't send anything across the river to help out now. Besides, she wasn't sure she could resupply her own weapons in the field. She'd have to wait 'til morning to get topped up.

Her next thought was using her Queen to distract the enemy Swarm long enough for her to prepare a more sturdy defense or raise an offensive army. She found this to be incredibly risky; that Queen was a particularly valuable asset, and a lucrative prize to boot. Losing it would likely complicate production matters at home, and she wouldn't be able to delve into the knowledge of any additional Zerg structures she might find if she broke their lines afterward. Plus, she'd lose the ability to convert what zerglings she had to Banelings if need be-

All thought ceased at precisely that moment, and for a brief second, she couldn't figure out why. Then a little lightbulb came on in the cockpit as the sun sunk below the horizon, and she understood. _Banelings._

A feral grin spread across her muzzle. _Banelings._ The cost of creating one was negligible, and if used correctly…

_This is going to shoot my defensive potential to hell,_ she thought, _but if it takes out the entire enemy base, well… fair trade, I'd say._

She closed her eyes and spread out her consciousness. As one, nearly seventy Zerglings began to mutate.

_An air strike will do the trick,_ she decided. _I'll send in my Roaches and Infestors to take out their Spore Crawlers first, and then send in Overlords as bombers, with support from my Mutalisks, to rain Baneling death on their defenses._

Ideally, once the defensive line fell, she could just walk in and 'convince' the Hive that its attempt on her life was misguided. The priority, however, was taking out the Nydus Network hub.

_Take out their hub, and they can't attack Spyro, _she told herself. _Once that's gone, he's safe._

She blinked. A correction to her logic was in order. _It's independent of the Hives… which means it has its own cortex! I don't need to destroy it-I can __**take **__it!_

Brimming with newfound confidence, she switched off her cockpit light-she worked best in the dark, she found, and her ability to harness the shadows only accentuated that preference-armed her weapons just in case, and returned to the Hive to commence attack preparations. On her way there, she had some of her leftover Spore Crawlers move into positions her Zerglings had once occupied, with Overlords and Infestors providing overwatch; she couldn't take any chances while her Zergling guard detail was being repurposed.

_First things first, logistics; How many Overlords am I going to need? _Seventy Banelings was quite a lot, and she knew she wouldn't be able to send all of them in with the number of Overlords she had-or at least the number she could risk and not go catatonic with the strain of manually controlling the whole swarm should they die. So she set aside some twenty of those for defensive purposes, having them burrow into the ground along the most likely avenues of attack, leaving her about fifty to use for the bombardment. Now the question was, how many could she have one Overlord carry?

Locating a test subject wasn't too hard; in fact, it took nothing more than a simple assessment of her defenses to find it. Her left flank, to the northwest, was more than secure from an enemy assault, and yet she'd sent two Overlords and four Infestors to watch over it. _That western flank seems needlessly well-defended right now,_ she decided. _I can afford to relieve some of those units. _With a flash of conscious thought, she relocated half of those Infestors to the northeastern flank, and beckoned one of the Overlords to her current position.

It was there in a (glacially slow) flash, and suddenly she found herself marveling at its size. She hadn't had the time to appreciate it before, but, she noticed, this thing was easily about the same size as the Lesser Earth Golems she faced in the catacombs that made up the ruins of Warfang, maybe even larger.

But she also didn't have time to reminisce about past encounters. Not now.

Shaking herself out of her musings, she told the Overlord to hold position, turned around and found a cluster of newly mutated Banelings staring curiously at the massive creature behind her. _Well. Convenient Banelings are convenient, _she thought. _Perfect!_

Some experimentation allowed her to fit eight Banelings in a single Overlord. A little bit of mental math later, she had made her choice. _Seven Overlords,_ she thought, _And I'll send eight Banelings in each. That'll be fifty-six bombs. Enough to level a minor Hive Cluster… if they all get through._

She closed her eyes and called up her mental map of the enemy base, as explored in earlier skirmishes, and got right to planning. The enemy had a line of Spine and Spore Crawlers with complete coverage of the perimeter, and the standing force there consisted mostly of Hydralisks with Zergling support. An air strike, until those Spore Crawlers and Hydralisks went down, would be impossible.

The Zerglings and Spine Crawlers would make a land assault difficult, but not impossible. Still, she didn't have as many units as she'd like for that.

In the end, though…

_I have to attack now._ Cynder's eyes opened as she rallied the majority of her troops. _If I don't, Spyro will have a sea of Zerg popping out of the ground right behind him._

_If I have a ghost of a chance of getting that Network, I __**have**_ _to try._

Her soldiers massed, her Banelings clung tightly to their new Overlord vessels, and she began to march.

Useless or not, the MageWalker had to be there. It might be a liability, but it was her only shot at victory.

_And hey, at least this last bit of ammo won't go to waste!_

* * *

><p>Spyro was far too busy plodding along the beach to notice the sunset. The only notification he got that night-time had arrived came from the cockpit light flickering on above him, which he quickly shut off. He was comfortable enough without night vision assistance in the first place.<p>

So far, his patrol had revealed and destroyed the positions of four zerg hiding in the sand and rocks around him. Some were big, some were small, but all were now dead. However, by Esper's count, he was far from finished. In fact, his patrol wasn't supposed to be over until he'd reached the limits of his transmission range, which was groan-worthy in and of itself.

But still he walked on.

Navigating by the light of the moon Saalok and his own radar screen, he'd just completed his second lap around the bunker, advancing something like two hundred meters per lap in a lazy spiral, when a fifth red blip made its presence known, burrowed almost at the edge of his radar screen. By the looks of it, it was large enough to be a Roach, and a rather large one, at that.

He wasted no time calling it in. "Esper, it's me. I think I've found another straggler, due south of the bunker. Big blob."

"I see it too, Tank. Barely, but he's there. Good work," she replied. "Nitro, Joker, you still there?"

"Team Blow-'Em-Up, still popping cherries," Joker responded. He was the rangefinder and 'spotter' in this arrangement, pointing out targets to Nitro, still glued to his rocket launcher, for him to exterminate.

"Cut it out," Chambers chided. "New target, three hundred fifty meters south. Looks like we've caught a Roach trembling in its boots. It's right at the edge of Tank's sensors."

Pure silence followed, at least for a few seconds. "Got it," Joker confirmed. "Nitro, range three-five-zero, bearing one-seven-three. Fire when ready."

"Right! Here it comes!" Another pause. "Here's a bit of friendly advice, Tank: TAKE COVER!"

Nitro's maniacal, arguably psychotic laughter reminded Spyro to maybe _move_ before the fireworks started, or else risk his armor being pelted with debris and parts of zerg. He'd said so himself the first time-the ammunition he was using here was expensive for a reason, and that reason was because it was packed with high explosives powerful enough to blast a sizable crater in the ground, obviously more than enough to blow him into itty bitty Dragon pieces.

_Well then, he'd better not waste it! _his brain shouted as his legs carried him to a blast crater created during the earlier siege-where he simply ducked as best his armor's actuators and range of motion would allow, and thanked the Ancestors Sparx wasn't watching.

Just then, there was a loud whoosh as the rocket screamed right past his crater, and lo, for a brief moment, there was light.

Along with a deafening bang and the crackling of rocks and other debris landing around him, but that was secondary.

"Is it _dead_?" Spyro whimpered, his eyes tightly sealed. He hadn't even considered lifting his head to observe the carnage outside, but he was sure it wasn't over _yet. _

He was met with silence for but a moment. "Whaddya _think_, Tank?" Joker exclaimed, prompting his head to perk back up and his eyes to blink open. "Of course he's dead! Would that explosion lie to you?"

"Kill confirmed. That's five so far. You guys are doing great." Esper chimed in. "Continue your patrol, Tank."

"Got it," Spyro responded, pulling himself out of the crater. Ignoring the ceaseless ringing in his ears, he pressed on with his objective.

The silence that greeted him when the dust had finally settled didn't last for very long. "Okay, just got off the line with command," Willards interjected. "Raynor's got our flank secured; they only have one more hive in their way now."

"So, we're gonna be relieved tomorrow, then?" Joker asked.

Spyro didn't speak up; he had a lot on his plate already.

"That's the plan," the Sergeant affirmed. "Of course, that's up to the Commander's boys, but they say we should have Aluriin back by the time we wake up."

"If we ever get to sleep, God willing," Nitro laughed.

"Not just that, Orion," Esper pointed out. "_Tank _willing. Credit where credit's due, after all."

"Yep," Willards agreed. "Command also tells me it thinks there's only one more coward out here. Hear that, Tank? You find him, we can all get some sleep!"

_Oh, good,_ thought Spyro sarcastically. _More running around looking for holes in the…_

There was a sound-a strange, rumbling roar, on the very edge of his hearing.

Spyro blinked. It was getting louder. "You hear that?" he asked his squad, looking around and picking up his pace to a jog, trying to find the source.

"Hear wha-?" Esper fell suddenly silent.

Spyro jogged in the direction of the noise, somewhere away from the bunker. _There! _A large blip of red appeared on his HUD. Something big was burrowed there. He squinted at the radar map. Something… rising?

It didn't take a genius to put two and two together on the other end of the line. "Oh, son of a-" Esper grunted, not even bothering to finish her sentence.

"Aaaaand that would be our worst nightmare," Joker deadpanned.

"Tank! Get your ass back here! **NOW**, dammit!"

Too late. The Nydus worm reared its head, bursting forth from the earth like pus from an unsightly blister. A shockwave resonated through the ground from the point of impact, and Spyro, not even fifty meters away, was thrown into the air and landed with a thud several feet back. He twisted himself onto his hands and knees and rose, turning to look at the monster before him.

The Nydus Worm-its head, anyway-towered at least thirty feet above the earth. One of its massive, slitted eyes, the only one he could see, glared vindictively out at him from a sea of yellow like a predator daring its prey to run.

Orion summed up Spyro's-and everyone else's-perspective in only two words. "Holy shit."

Spyro couldn't help but agree. Not only was the Worms' head alone thirty feet tall, but its mouth was already opening to reveal a tunnel-like throat, lined with mucus, and already a lumpy, alien shape was emerging from the darkness within.

"Tank?" Willards' voice broke the awed silence of his cockpit.

Spyro blinked, his eyes still fixed on the mouth of the worm and on the _thing_ that was coming out. "Yes?"

"_Run._"

* * *

><p>Cynder had only ever seen the inside of the Nydus worms she controlled; indeed, it was the only thing about them she really cared about. She had left this one on the very edge of the enemy hive's influence to allow for fast transport between the frontline and home base for her Zergling scouts, before she 'volunteered' them to become Banelings.<p>

From them, and a few unfortunate newcomers, she learned all she currently knew about that Hive. Good thing, too; it helped her figure out the best possible way to handle its defensive line.

If the battle for her previous Hive was any indication, those Spore Crawlers could only focus on one problem at a time. That weakened their ability to detect incoming hostiles from anywhere other than what they were looking at. Flanking attacks or anything in the air that managed to skirt past that coverage area would be able to crush them with ease.

Her plan was simple, and quite efficient on ammo; she had assembled a small cadre of soldiers, slowly squeezing along behind her by the beast's peristaltic motions, consisting of several Hydralisks, a unit of Roaches, and a batch of Infestors, with a squadron of Mutalisks hovering just outside the enemy's sight. With this, and what was left of her ammunition, she would try to attract the Crawlers' vision and attention just long enough for her Overlords and Banelings to crash their little party.

And from there, she hoped, she could save Spyro from being reduced to zerg chow.

She pushed between her Zerg, trying to get to the front of the line. Despite the lack of ammo in her walker, her armor was stronger than most Zerg's; besides which her grenades would make for a good battle starter. With a flick of her mind and a mental wave, the sea of beasts and carapace parted around her like sheep for their shepherd. Every so often a Zerg would look up at the visor of her armor as it stood aside for her passage. At one point she met the gaze of a Hydralisk; its luminous eyes were lit with something like reverence until it looked away in instinctive respect.

At long last she forced herself out of the Worm's massive jaws, and she was free. Saliva was dripping from her armor, but at least she was out of that madhouse.

She crested over a hill, her Swarm assembled behind her, and there, in the valley below, she could see the enemy Hive, lined with crawlers of both kinds and positively crawling with Zergling patrols.

The Banelings would deal with the latter, as long as she could get them a path past the former. That was what they were there for, after all.

She quickly took stock. The spore crawlers were conservatively organized; very little overlap existed between the range of one and another. The spine crawlers, however, were less so-any spore crawler was defended by at least two of its anti-infantry brethren.

She studied the enemy perimeter, trying to find its weakest link. Which spore crawler could she reasonably destroy without massive casualties?

_There._ On the enemy's left; there was a spore crawler which was just barely in the range of two spine crawlers. Most of the Zerg attacking it would be under fire from only one at a time. Once she had that taken care of, she could flank the others and tie up the rest of their defenses easily.

This would be her target.

But just as she marshalled her troops towards that flank, she noticed that the Zergling concentration in the area had begun to drop. She looked around, trying to figure out what was going on.

When she found it, her stomach-and morale-instantly sank. The enemy forces were clambering in single file into the mouth of the clearly visible Nydus Network-Roaches, Infestors, Banelings, Ultralisks, just about every breed she knew for their destructive potential, all amid a lake of Zerglings that nearly obscured the creep carpet.

She quickly stole a glance of Spyro's face on her dashboard. His eyes were wide and absolutely terrified, almost as if he'd caught a glimpse of some malevolent spectre, and in that instant her own worst fears were realized. She was too late!

The Worm had already risen, and Cynder was out of time… or at least, Spyro was.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: This is Lithos again. I will confess that Digolgrin took care of most of the actual meat of this chapter; I usually only had time for editing each section as we got it done. On that topic, let me know if you notice any of those inconsistencies I mentioned between our styles. I'd rather working together didn't impact quality, and while I'd like a story written in either of our styles, an unholy mixture of both is not my cup of tea; bit like oil and water, that.**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. We're almost done with Aiur. Probably 3-4 chapters more and then we'll move on to the next (and final) act of the story. Not spoiling that yet, but we've finally got almost everything mapped out.**

**Speaking of we, I think it's time Digolgrin got a word in edgewise between my rambles, so I'll let him close the chapter. Turn out the lights when you're done.**

**Hello guys, Digolgrin here. I know, better late than never, right? Not much to say here other than I'm pleased-no, I'm absolutely excited to have the chance to work on this series-or trilogy, whatever you wanna call it. Also, if you guys have any questions, either now or later on down the road, just direct them to Lithos. He's the guy in charge of all this, after all, and I don't think I could handle them all without first coming to him.**

**And on that note... Please, don't forget that little review button. Neglecting it only makes it unhappy.**


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